


Bodies of Code

by BairnSidhe, ValkyriePhoenix



Series: Bodies-verse [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, CHAPTERS 10 & 11 CONTAIN TRIGGERS, Crack, Emotional Rollercoaster of Doom, Feels, Gen, HORROR MOVIES GOT NOTHING ON ME, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Juice, Rating May Change, all the triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyriePhoenix/pseuds/ValkyriePhoenix
Summary: Someone let the Twins into Space. Then Plot happened.





	1. Stow Aways

**Author's Note:**

> While Code Chartreuse and Bodies have always been connected, it's never been mandatory to read both. This one, however, absolutely does require familiarity with both series. If you haven't read one, I firmly suggest you go do so, before reading this work.
> 
> Secondly, this work ranges from more Code-typical Feels to downright Triggery Shit, ALWAYS check the tags and beginning notes before reading a chapter, I will make sure to always note when it goes above and beyond "usual angst". 
> 
> Authorship varies, and I honestly don't remember who wrote which parts anymore.

“We have a guest coming,” Peter announced to the gathered crews in the mess. He turned to Yondu, “Sandra says ‘Cousin Darcy is fed up with you almost getting yourself killed instead of coming home, and Cousin Loki had to head out your way anyways for a Stone problem, so Darcy asked him to stop in.’ Apparently, she didn’t tell me sooner because she didn’t want to make it harder for Loki to find us. The ship is coming up on the scanners now, he’ll be here in half a mark.”

 

Gamora and Nebula shared a pale, worried look. Peter sighed. “No one, including Loki, holds you two responsible for the actions of your twatwaffle father.  _ Stay. Put. _ ”

 

“Twatwaffle?”   
  
“I blame Darcy, Darcy blames her sister, Ciara.”

 

***

 

Kraglin had been working on this blasted wreck of a short-range transport for hours, missing lunch to do so, and it wasn’t going well. Damned thing still wouldn’t start. 

 

He had his head in the engine compartment when a voice piped up next to him.   
  
“Tha’s wrong. Cable this big should be plugged into the box thingy over there, not this one, this one’ll just overload and go kaplooey if you give it that much power.”

 

Kraglin hit his head, dropped the spanner on his foot, screamed and started cursing….until he saw who had spoken, and then he shoved the curses down as hard as he could. One simply does not curse like the merc thief the ship was full of around children. Even ones that spontaneously appear without a sound and make you hit your head on an engine. And possibly break your foot.

 

***

 

Loki had just begun the verbal dance of introductions that mercenaries always managed to make more complicated than it needed to be when the scream rang through the ship. Glancing up, he could just make out the foot of his daughter’s companion above the catwalk in the cargo hold. If the sane-ish one was here, the terrors were too. Damn. He sighed and bent his head to massage the ache that throbbed behind his eyes.

 

“Peter,” interrupted a Centaurian male rolling up in a jury-rigged wheelchair, Colin tucked firmly under one arm, “Why do I have a pack o’ Terran kids running around the Eclector giving my head mechanic heart palpitations?”

 

“Stowaways with the visitor, Yondu,” Peter said, jogging in from the other direction.  He pointed to each, visibly counting. “And we’re missing one. That one comes with a duplicate.”

 

“I’m terribly sorry to have sprung my daughter and her friends on you with no warning,” Loki said smoothly.  “They’re remarkably good at staying hidden until it is no longer easy to turn around to take them home.”

 

“They’re from your people?” Yondu asked Peter.   Peter nodded. “Well why didn’t they just say so!  Who wants cookies? I got cookies in the mess if you want ‘em.” Yondu grinned and leaned forward.

 

“What?” now Peter was confused, “Yondu. Dad. No. Dinner is in an hour.”

 

Loki watched as young Gun dropped down and patted Peter’s hand.  “You aren’t going to be able to stop them. It’s okay, they won’t overeat this time.”

 

“Anyway,” Loki said, placing his hand on his child’s head.  “Meet my daughter, my nephews, that one is Colin, and their friend Gun Hogunson, who I assume came to keep them from killing themselves?”

 

“Yessir, Prince Loki.”  Gun nodded and then suddenly looked into a tube that ran off elsewhere in the ship, and sighed heavily.  “Caddell, put that down, it blows up.”

 

“Kay!” came the piping voice.

 

“The da offered us cookies,” Colin yelled down to his brother.

 

“Be right up!....Do they have brownies?”

 

“We’ll find out when we get there what they have,” Little reassured her cousin.

 

Loki sighed and lifted Colin out of Yondu’s lap and passed him to Peter.  Then he nodded to Little and bent to speak to Yondu quietly. “Do try to ensure they don’t take over any planets, please.  It may be hard, but I would appreciate it if I don’t have to rush my daughter’s stateship education before she takes a throne.”

 

“No promises,” Yondu said with a wink.

 

Gun heaved a heavy sigh and Gamora smiled at him. It is hard work being the sane, responsible one, and watching the boy dealing with the same every day struggles she dealt with with her own lunatics gave her a feeling of rare camaraderie. “Come, let the grown ups deal with your crazy friends for a little, while we see what desserts we have.”   
  
“Not you too,” Peter groaned behind her as she lead Gun Hogunson off to the mess. Gamora’s smile grew.

 

***

 

“Peter,” Loki said as Peter’s family took the children off for desserts, “I really do need you to see them home safe. They really are phenomenal at finding trouble, Gun included, though at least with a precognitive ability, he can usually get himself out again safely.” 

 

“And there’ll be plenty of trouble to be found around any of the Stones,” Peter finished for him.

 

Loki nodded, “Keeping those four safe is an exhausting, full time job for two or three people. I am on my own out here and heading into a probable spot of trouble.”

 

“I think my dad has half adopted them already. We’ll keep them safe… But I don’t want the job full time. See that you get back safe quickly, too.”   
  
Loki smiled, “Tell Sandra you have them, and you’ll have all the strategies of the Family and their years of experience chasing after them on hand whenever you need it. You’ll want to keep desserts on hand, and just let Yondu give them out whenever, they never seem to fill up, eating more in a sitting than most of the adults I know, and it’s one of the few ways of keeping them mostly out of trouble, especially if you pay them in cookies for doing chores.”

 

Peter sighed, “I’ll keep that in mind.”    
  
He saw Loki off after a quick check for stowaways aboard the ship and turned towards the mess to see what chaos had been wrought by his newly extended family.

 

***

 

Yondu and Gamora lead the four children into the mess and dug out the dessert stash for them. The crew that were off duty stared at them in confusion.

 

“Why are there four mini Terrans on board?”   
  
“Why is the cap’n grinning and givin’ ‘em cookies?”

 

“Why do two of ‘em look the same?”   
  
“Terrans sometimes have litters of whelps, which sometimes are iden’ical. They must be a pair from one litter.”

  
“That sounds ...excruciating.”

  
“Well, their whelps are also smaller at birth than yours, but yes, it does.”

 

“How do they keep from over-populating?”   
  


“Wars, mostly.”

 

***

 

Little was enjoying her cookie-thingy when a walking stick crossed the table she sat at. Not a stick-bug, but an actual piece of green wood, that walked.

 

"I am Groot.”   
  
And talked, apparently.  Only the sound under the actual sound meant more like ‘What are you looking at, pinky?’  Which was rude.

 

"I'm not looking at anything, you dumb shrub"

 

“I am Groot,” he said, meaning ‘Overgrown monkey’

 

“Animals pee on you,” Little retorted, shifting translation of the second sound higher in focus.   
  


_ Yeah? Well you poop! _ he retorted, waving his arms angrily.

 

“At least birds don’t poop on my head!”

 

Groot shrieked and went to hit Little, who dodged and flicked him. He leaped at her, vines extending. 

 

“Woah, Woah!” Rocket interrupted, wading in to separate his small thing from the other small thing, as a third small thing pulled the girl back firmly and the deep hood of her coat fell back. Groot stilled in his arms.

 

_ Oh, you aren't looking at anything because your eyes don't work. I get it, now _ , he said.  The others who couldn’t hear his actual words were shifting oddly.  One half of an argument always made them skittish.   
  
Rocket sighed. Always with the ‘looking at me funny’. Groot wouldn’t get to be the big bad ass he could be at this rate, someone was going to stomp on him with intent.

 

"Entling," the girl swore, righting her hood.

 

"I am Groot,” he introduced himself, real words and echo-words the same for once.  _  Sorry. Wanna play tricks on the big mammals? _

 

"Always," she smiled.

 

_ Not Rocket though, _ Groot clarified.  _ He's touchy. _

***

 

Yondu felt something behind his chair jitter, then there was a clinking sound and the power light on his chair that was stuck in the “On” position went off.   
  
“Boys, what are you doing?”

 

“Fixin’ yer chair,” said the twin on the right.

 

“Fixing…?” Yondu shakily stood and transferred himself to another seat then hit the intercom. “Someone get Kraglin in here.”

 

Kraglin came in quickly, wiping grease from his hands, “What’s the problem, Cap’n?”

 

“They’re fixing my chair.”

 

Kraglin knelt down to where the boys were working. “What’s the problem, boys?”

 

“The battery cords jiggle loose,” said one.   
  
“The power button is stuck,” added the other.   
  


“The control stick gets stuck.”   
  
“The gears are all cracked and don’t fit quite right.”

 

“We’re fixing it.”

 

Kraglin smiled and settled in next to the boys to help them fix the haphazardly built chair. He didn’t have new parts for it, but he had a feeling the twins would have a way around that detail.

 

***

 

When Yondu next rolled into the mess, his chair looking both more haphazard and shinier, but running much more smoothly, half the crew was jittering and shuddering, muttering about it being Little Quill all over again, times four. The other half weren’t there for Peter’s childhood, and were still mostly amused by the antics.

 

Rocket was chasing a giggling princess and Groot across the bare beams where the floor above had been removed to make headspace for taller crew mates, Gamora had Gun tucked happily into her side, and Nebula was completely baffled as the twins climbed all over her, making strange hand motions and yammering at each other in some strange musical  language from Terra.

 

“A bheil thu a 'smaoineachadh gu bheil NatMonster a' cuimhneachadh ma chumas sinn an uilebheist seo cuideachd?” one asked the other, as Peter came into the mess from the cockpit.

 

“NatMonster is the best,” the princess called down from the rafters, “I don’t think she’d mind.”

 

“What about Natasha?” Peter asked, “And why do you call her NatMonster?”

 

“NatMonster is the best monster,” Colin said firmly, as Caddell nodded.   
  
“She’s bigger and badder and scares all the other monsters,” Caddell added.

 

“But she’s nice and brings treats whenever she goes away on a mission,” the princess put in.   
  
“And is a really good teacher, even if I’m not as advanced as the others are,” Gun said quietly.

 

As the confused looks continued from Gamora and Nebula, Peter cleared his throat. “Natasha is Darcy’s daughter, one of the top three assassins of Terra, and was raised in an environment…. not unlike the one you two grew up in. Apparently, she’s their favorite aunt.”

 

“And the  _ best _ Good Monster. ALL the Bad Monsters are scared of her.”

 

“Colin wanted to know if we thought Nat would mind if he and Caddell kept Nebula-Monster, too. Nat is good at sharing, I don’t think she’d mind.”

 

Nebula, shaken, asked cautiously, “What’s a Good Monster?”

 

All four of the children stopped and looked like they were doing advanced calculations as they tried to figure out how to answer the question.

 

“All monsters are…” Caddell started slowly, “big, scary, capable…” 

 

“Badasses,” Princess said firmly.

 

Colin nodded, “They growl and fight and bite and hunt in the dark.”

 

“But  _ good _ monsters,” Caddell picked up the thread again, “what they hunt is other monsters, monsters that hurt people.”

 

“They protect people, but they aren’t tame,” Gun put in shyly, “A lion is still a lion if it hunts other lions. Good Monsters are still wild, untamable, and dangerous, they just use it to protect people who don’t deserve to be hurt by the other monsters.”

 

Gamora may have teared up as Nebula quietly asked one more question:

 

“Can I be a Good Monster?”

 

Colin beamed, “You already  _ are, DUH. _ ”

 

“Now,” Cadell interrupted, finally pausing his hand motions, “Wiggle your fingers. How does it feel?”

 

Nebula complied and stared at her hand in awe, before proceeding to wiggle each individual part of herself slowly, her eyes wide.

 

“It… It doesn’t hurt. Or nowhere near as much, anyways. How…?”

 

“Magic,” Colin grinned.

 

“Uncle Bucky’s arm wasn’t done  _ right _ either,” Caddell said, “the bad people who installed it didn’t care about the pain either, because bad people don’t care about other people’s pain. We’ve been helping fix that for ages, so fixing a little problem like mismatched wattages and no fuses to protect against shorts and feedback is easy, now.”

  
Nebula stared at them for a moment before turning to Gamora. How does one express gratitude for such an unnecessary but entirely vital gift? Gamora smiled and said it for her.   
  
“Thank you, boys, Nebula doesn’t know how to say it, but  _ thank you. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcannon that at least once, a bird has pooped on Baby!Groot and he felt like he was drowning.
> 
> "A bheil thu a 'smaoineachadh gu bheil NatMonster a' cuimhneachadh ma chumas sinn an uilebheist seo cuideachd?": Do you think NatMonster will mind if we keep this monster, too?
> 
> Nebula clearly doesn't think a reduction of pain is actually important, giving a "My function is unimpaired" type of answer, because she forgets what it's like to not be in pain. But by not being in pain, her function sky rockets and her mind settles more, so it's an unnecessary, but a vital thing and she has no idea what to do with that.


	2. Unsettled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone learns something about someone else, and is thoroughly unsettled by the revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, including children involved in the violence.  
> Warning: Doomy cliffhanger, I promise, it's not as bad as it seems.
> 
> Lovefest: Beth_Mack, quadrad, Snowecat, Tsita, Joey99, Snowdove30, willowfire, Shadows_of_Shemai, hhhellcat and the 16 kudoers

Yondu drove his chair from his cabin towards the cargo bay the children had taken to training with Gamora and Nebula in, pondering the tiny girl-child on his lap. It was...strange, almost, that his years of acting like he wasn’ soft on Peter would stand him in good stead now with his emotions all the other way around. The princess had been telling him something of her life before Loki adopted her, not her eyes, he knew better than to ask that, and he wanted to keep his own eyes, aye, and his breakfast, too. Given how happily she talked of the Profoundly Fucked Up slave pit from hell her people populated, whatever came before was…worse. He was having enough trouble as it was keeping a lid on his anger. 

 

Kree battle slaves didn’t exactly live what one could call a life of luxury, but compared to the Jachkt -- his insides shuddered -- well, it clearly wasn’ as bad as it coulda been. Yondu thanked his stars that the Kree were speciesist assholes; Kree wouldn’t bed anyone non-Kree, and Kree-born bed slaves were too good to waste in gladiator games and wars, the Jachkt had no such luck. Kree battle slaves also didn’t leave the training pits for the fighting ring till they were old enough and big enough to stand half a chance. The Jachkt littles were fightin’ afore they were much older nor Peter was when Yondu picked him up, had Loki’s sister not taken her out and gotten her to Loki, the bitty thing jabbering away on his lap might’ve been dead on a sandy floor by now. He refused to think of the alternatives and tried not to be obvious in holding the chit a bit tighter to him.

 

“It’s okay,” the princess whispered into his shoulder, petting his back softly. “I had people who looked out for me, an’ I never hit the Ring. They sent me with Ciara so I wouldn’t, faked my death and everything. I wasn’ in any danger. I miss them sometimes. They never treated me as weak, or less than equal, and never thought I was silly for wanting to train to be as good as they were, even without eyes. They were good people. You’d like them.”

 

“Anybody tell you where I grew up, Bitty?”

 

“No, but some of your scars are like the ones a lot of the Jachkt have.”

 

Yondu nodded, knowing she could feel it. “My parents sold me to the Kree. Kree battle slaves have a better time of it than your people do. Not much maybe, but enough. Sometimes we fought their wars for them. Sometimes we fought for their entertainment, like your lot. I was a slave for 20 years before someone outside, fella called Stakar, saved me, like your Ciara saved you. I’ve been angry about it my whole life. Today I’m grateful for it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I know enough to know how lucky I was, and how lucky I am that Ciara took you out of there and Loki adopted you.”

 

She smiled up at him, “Then you are Jachkt too.”

 

She turned around and snuggled back down into the crook of his arm, seeming to doze peacefully for the first time since boarding the Eclector. Yondu paused in a corner to let himself cry a bit and get himself under control before the crew could see him, finding a strange kind of peace with his childhood, if only because it allowed him to understand the child in front of him.

 

***

 

Gamora was disturbed as she boarded the Milano in the Eclector’s hangar bay to relax with her crew. She had been training with the children. All four were warriors, but the princess, who talked like Rocket and could hear Groot… She fought like Gamora and her sisters. Played the same training-games with herself, too, walking in complete silence through the Eclector without being seen or heard.

 

“How do you deal with it,” she looked at Rocket, “That the princess talks like you, has your attitude, but moves and fights like me?”

 

Rocket paused in eating his piece of fruit and shrugged. “Darcy said it, ‘none of us asked to get made.’ I don’t know how she was made what she is, where it makes sense for her to have my attitude but your skills.  I don’t need to. I know how to treat her because I know how I want to be treated.”

 

“It’s strange…” Gamora started. Drax laughed.

 

“She is like all of the Guardians put together. It is glorious. She is blunt like me, talks like Rocket, fights like Gamora, and is a tiny human like Quill,” he looked at the now-two foot tall Groot and said nothing, but his face said he thought they were both adorable.

 

“I have not yet met the princess,” Mantis said thoughtfully, “The Twins are most amusing, though. I would like to meet the other two as well.”

 

Gamora shared a look with Rocket and smiled.  “I think we can arrange for that.”

 

***

 

Little stared at Mantis with complete bafflement writ in every line of her body. “How?”

 

“How, what?” Gamora asked, amused.   
  
“How does a full grown person have less sense than...than  _ Colin??? _ ”

 

“HEY!” Colin objected, “I have plenty of sense. ‘I see a tree, eat a leaf.’ “

 

“Sid the Sloth is not a role model of sense, Colin, which is exactly my point. You’re lucky to have Caddell to make up the difference for you. Your tree is probably either poisonous or carnivorous.”

 

“Sid was  _ not _ the one who tried to eat a carnivorous plant bigger than him. That was Manny.”

 

“No, Sid was the one who tried to fight a dinosaur with an oversized piece of broccoli,” Caddell said happily.

 

“Broccoli is lethal,” Colin muttered darkly.

 

Little sighed heavily and exchanged looks with Gun, who had recently been exposed to the Ice Age movies. He shrugged, “They’re actually more like the possums, which is sort of better? At least he’s not Fievel?”

 

“No, the full grown woman is. How?”

 

“I was raised alone on Ego’s planet.”

 

“Oh. You poor thing,” Little took a deep breath and visibly calmed herself. “It’s okay, I can take care of Colin and Caddell --”

 

“HEY!” the twins echoed.

 

“And Jason and Jacob who were older and  _ almost _ as hopeless, I can take care of you, too. Come on, let’s go get food.” Little grabbed Mantis’ hand and hauled her from the room.

 

Gamora, Peter, and Drax waited a full 30 seconds before bursting into laughter. Yondu and Rocket didn’t even wait 5.

 

***

 

The Eclector put into dock at Contraxia for supplies, and most of the crew disembarked to stretch their legs and do some personal shopping. Little sighed and rolled her eyes when Mantis confessed to having no idea what she needed, and having never been in a city before. Gamora tried not to smile and helped Little write a list for Mantis, and promised to come along with them.

 

They had barely gotten their feet on solid ground when Little had work to do. A horde of hawkers with their assorted wares had descended on the dock to make the most of the fresh buyers.Gamora ignored them and strolled through the masses, but Mantis paused at every table, booth, and long-jacketed man, causing the princess to huff an exasperated “She’s not interested,” and pull her away, explaining when Mantis protested, “It’s not real, and if it is, it’s stolen. Don’t buy anything here. Just follow Gamora.”

 

“Hey, pretty lady, wanna feel my Yaro root?”

 

Gamora laughed as they passed, “That’s barely a gherkin pickle.”

 

“Why would I want to feel a Yaro root?” Mantis asked, confused.

 

“You don’t. You don’t want to feel anything that man has. Keep walking, Fievel.”

 

***

 

Mantis smiled to herself, and felt more certain of everything as the pupa attempted to mother her to death, telling her not to pick things up if she doesn’t know where it’s been, and eat her vegetables first, and radiating a fierce, calm, confident protectiveness whenever she pulled Mantis away from something she felt Mantis shouldn’t do. She liked how useful the princess felt when taking care of her, so she deliberately did a few things the pupa had just told her not to do. It let her feel useful, too. Besides, she was learning more about the universe and people around her with the little thing mothering her than she had in all her years with Ego.

 

As they boarded the Milano in the Eclector’s hangars, Rocket looked from Little’s fondly exasperated huffing to Mantis’ fond smile to Gamora’s amused one, shook his head and headed to his cabin, muttering under his breath something that sounded like equations. The three had just finished stowing their purchases when he returned, carrying a gun that still smelled of soldering and welding, which he shoved firmly into Mantis’ hands, as Yondu, with the twins on his lap, Peter and Drax boarded with their own purchases.

 

"Why are you giving her a gun?!” the princess shrieked.

 

“She’s family now. She don’ have a gun, I made her a gun,” Rocket shrugged.

 

“She'll shoot her eyes out!"    
  


"Is that what happened to you?" the raccoon huffed.

 

The silence that followed was deafening.

 

Little stared firmly at Rocket. “Hotep! Hoy!” The coded command sent her knights into action. The twins leapt out of Yondu’s lap and tackled Mantis, wrapping themselves around Mantis’ head, and humming tunes so she could hear nothing.

 

Mantis watched between arms and legs, her empathy picking up only a firm devotion to the princess, as the princess, back to Mantis, pulled her hood back. She must have said something, but Mantis decided firmly that she didn’t want to know what, for the faces of the rest of the crew betrayed first shock, followed swiftly by a terrifying rage. Judging by body language, Gamora was cursing as foully as Rocket ever did, Peter wanted to hit something, and Rocket was close to tears, but refusing to cry. No, Mantis did  _ not  _ want to know what the princess and twins were protecting her from. Yondu, face closed off, motioned to the princess, who slowly climbed onto his lap, he turned his chair and left with the pupa. The twins stopped humming and helped her to her feet. She dusted herself off and looked to her new Family.

 

“Do not tell me, please, I do not wish to know.”

 

Rocket gulped and nodded, heading to his bunk silently, Groot following him with a worried expression. 

 

Mantis left the crew to deal with the revelation on their own terms, and sought the solace of the Eclector’s bridge. Docked as the ship was, the bridge would be abandoned. Sometimes it was good to be quiet.

 

***

 

Gamora called an emergency meeting of the Guardians as soon as Yondu had removed Little and Mantis had removed herself.

 

“We are helping the Princess’s people when we get to Terra,” she stated, firmly.  Peter nodded.

 

“I’ll start basing out hideable weapons,” Rocket said, pulling out a notebook and scratching out some designs.  “Things they can slip into the slave pens, for use in an uprising. I’ll check weights against what Groot can carry, he’s the stealthiest right now.”

 

“I’ll ask Darcy to borrow her lawyers and kick a big stink at CPS,” Peter added.  “Maybe start a national outcry at the number of missing kids. I was a missing kid, after all, and Grandad was a hippy, he has lots of experience whipping up protests.  If we cut off their supply chain, maybe we can prevent what happened to her and her sister from happening again.”

 

“I will take the brute and track the capture teams,” Nebula offered.  She still wasn’t kind in her requests, but she cared enough to come when Gamora asked, and was repulsed enough by the story to act.  “We will send a firm message.”

 

“Finger to the throat means death,” Drax agreed.

 

“WE are Groot,” Groot piped.

 

***

 

Klaxons blared not half an hour after they left Contraxia space. Yondu rolled onto the bridge, “Peter! What’s happening?”

 

“Four ships in the rear and gaining, Unaffiliates followed us from Contraxia.”

 

“Lovely. How far out are they?”

 

And explosion rocked the ship.   
  
“Firing range,” Peter said blandly.

 

Little, Gun and the twins stood in  the corner, Gun clearly standing guard as Little began humming and the twins Weaving, looks of fierce concentration warping their usually mirth-filled faces. 

 

“Gun,” Peter said slowly, “what are they doing?”

 

“Shielding the ship from taking damage from the guns. They can’t stop them from boarding though. Prince Loki hasn’t got that far in their lessons, yet.”

 

“Shielding?” Yondu asked curiously, “Those three are mages?”

 

Gun nodded, “Unusually good ones for their age. The boys specialize in chaos magic, so they’re making it so it’s improbable for the shots to hit the ship. Princess is actively shielding from anything they can’t divert. We are going to be boarded, though, they can’t stop that.”

 

Yondu nodded, less sceptical than most grown ups of Gun’s acquaintance. “Let’s make use of the time they’re giving us, then.”

 

Peter nodded and hit the coms, “Gamora, we’re going to be boarded.” He looked at Gun, who rattled off locations, “You get all that?”

 

“We’re on it,” came the scratchy reply.

 

“Kraglin, you have the con,” Yondu ordered, turning his chair to the security room, “Peter, keep Bitty and the Mayhems safe.”

 

“Yessir,” they echoed.

 

***

 

The next hour was filled with two things: confusion, and screaming.

 

Yondu’s Yaka was not the only thing flying through the air, Little was singing a merry tune that, had any had time to think about it, directly correlated to her location in 3 dimensional space, causing her to fly as easily as the arrow did, and raining down as much death as the arrow as well. 

 

Colin and Caddell had repurposed Murphy’s Law, changing but one word and aiming it deftly at the enemy: “If it can explode, it will, and at the least opportune time.” Meanwhile, they utilized the various airways and crawlspaces to lay traps, attack from behind and disappear again, unseen and unscathed.

 

Groot howled in rage and punched an oncoming pirate in the face before pulling him off the catwalk and looking up at the next one, chin set and eyes narrowed.

 

Gun drew attention from the Guardians and Ravagers with unerring aim, which, did they but know it, was merely careful application of his precognitive abilities.

 

Gamora, Nebula, and Drax hunted the shadows, putting down the encroaching men by the droves, pausing only to watch the Four’s destructive chaos at it’s finest, and most deadly.

 

“Remind me to be grateful Thanos never got his hands on them,” Nebula muttered quietly to Gamora.

 

“I will, if you will remind me to pray he never does,” Gamora smiled back, glad her sister was back at her side. She sighed and rolled her eyes as Peter dashed through the room, all elbows and fists, and no sophistication.

 

***

 

Gun was exhausted, Loki had warned him that his powers were like muscles, and extended use would wear him out. He had thought he’d understood. He really hadn’t, and it wasn’t yet safe to drop his awareness, flop over and go to sleep, which was really all he wanted to do.

 

He knew he should be afraid.  Actual fighting was nothing like training, it was terrifying.  However, with his focus on uniting his visions and his actions, he hadn’t time to be afraid.  Even when his visions alternately showed Jafir, a huge alien with tentacles and scars everywhere, that most of the crew was terrified of, but who secretly kept cookies in his pockets for the children, getting shot in the back, and himself standing in Jafir’s place. He didn’t have time to think, much less fear. He reached out and grabbed Jafir, spinning to pull the giant down.    
  
He was barely aware of Peter’s horrified scream across the room, when a red light washed over his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sid the Sloth, Manny the Mammoth, and the possums are all characters from the Ice Age movies, "I see a tree, eat a leaf, that's my tracking" is a Sid line from the first movie, carnivorous plants and fighting dinosaurs with broccoli occur in the third movie. 
> 
> Fievel is a character from An American Tale, which is about a family of Russian Jewish mice, who immigrate to America and get separated on the way. Fievel is your average five year old, innocent, intelligent, and prone to finding absurd amounts of trouble. Also, stopping walking repeatedly to ask lots of questions. 
> 
> Contraxia is the ice-planet that we see the brothel on in GotG2. It's also much like mos eisley, a hive of scum and villainy. One of the main trades is bars and brothels.
> 
> Yaro root is the green, yam-shaped vegetable Nebula insists on eating in GotG2 only to find it isn't ripe. Gherkin pickles are the ones that are about the size of an adult pinky finger. If you still don't get what's going on here, I'm not telling you.
> 
> Hotep and Hoy are the priests in Prince of Egypt, both Pharoahs in the film often call them in this manner, and expect them to know exactly what is needed. They hop-to immediately, except when they can't, and then they immediately make excuses.
> 
> "Murphy's Law" dictates that "If it can go wrong, it will." A student of Murphy is reported to have added the caveat that it will do so "At the worst possible time."
> 
> Real fights ARE nothing at all like training, and while these kids are exceptionally well trained, with every effort being made to prepare them for the realities of actual fighting, with the exception of Little, none of them have been in actual, possibility-of-death fighting. Of course they're terrified. They're also stubborn little mules who insist on doing their part to help their adults in every possible occurrence. They DO, however, take every precaution to make sure it is not them who dies, the Twins by their wiles and fox-like tactics, Gun by using his precognition constantly, Little by sheer brutality. Groot with WTF-feels.
> 
>  
> 
> GUN IS NOT DEAD. I don't kill babies if I can get away with it.


	3. ALL THE FEELS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with shit. It's not pretty. Coping happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab the tissue box, you're gonna need it.
> 
> Lesser graphic violence, incl. violence done by minors.
> 
> Lovefest: Shadows_of_Shemai, FantasyTLOU, Snowdove30, QueenOfTheQuill, quadrad, Tsita, willowfire, Addie_Lover_of_Stories, Joey99, hhhellcat and the 8 new kudoers.

Gamora watched in terror as the Stupid Space Pirate aimed at Jafir, and the boy behind  him, she raised her own gun and fired, killing the man nanoseconds after he pulled his own trigger. She heard Peter’s scream, and turned, expecting to see someone dead. What she saw was a circle of red light, that was more opaque in a pattern of concentric circles with a star in the middle. A very pale Gun stood behind it for a moment, before collapsing slowly to the floor.

 

“Well, that’s new,” Peter’s voice said, but not Peter’s inflection.

 

“Figure it out later, Sandra,” Rocket shouted, as he scurried down from the rafters to check on Gun. “Get one of the scary ladies to help clean up the rest of them.”

 

Not-Peter nodded and his posture changed.

 

“Status?” they asked.  The clipped tone sounded less like Darcy and more like Jillian.  “Who’s kid is this?”

 

“That’s Gun, he’s with us,” Rocket said tossing a chain of mini-bombs to the explosives expert.  “As for status… not shot? If I had to guess, he’s exhausted.”

 

“Well yeah,” piped a voice from the crawlspace to the left, “Unca Loki said using his powers extens’ly would be like pushin’ boulders iffin he did it too long.”

 

“He’s been usin em f’r an hour straight,” the other twin said from the air vent on the right, “Nobody taught him that trick of usin precog to help his aim, though. That was jus’ smarts.”

 

Not-Peter nodded and headed off to clean up the rest of the incursion.

 

Gamora turned to Nebula and Drax, “I will take care of Gun, you do what you must.”

 

They nodded, and left, as the twins climbed out of their tunnels, swords and axes at the ready.

 

Gamora gathered up the unconscious boy and stood to take him to the infirmary  to recover, when sounds of singing came from around the corner.

 

Little stopped singing and dropped in front of Gamora, pale and shaken, “Gun?”

 

“Just sleeping, princess, he tired himself out using his power too much.”

 

“Stupid Gun. He should know better. Pabbi  _ told _ him. I’m going to make fun of him for weeks.”

 

Gamora smiled, her experiences with Rocket letting her hear what wasn’t being said.

 

“I’m sure Gun loves you too, Princess. Go tell Yondu Gun’s alright, would you?”

 

Little nodded and began singing again, taking off flying nearly as quickly as Yaka.

 

***

 

Drax grinned. The Sagittarian he faced was a worthy opponent. He knew not how one such came to be here, rather than being the Kree Empire’s genocidal executioner, but he was an excellent fighter, and required all of Drax’s attention. Drax did not think he could kill the Sagittarian, but disabling him was still possible. He felt, rather than saw, the two sneaking up behind him, but could not turn to face them, or his current opponent would surely kill him. He dodged the strike at his throat and struck with all his might at the Sagitarian’s temple, felling him quickly, so he could turn and face the dishonorable pirates who would attack the back of a man fighting better a better opponent. 

 

Only there was no one to fight. The red glow of Yaka trailed from a hole in the throat of one, and the Terran princess was crouched on the shoulders of the other, wiggling her knife free from his eye socket, the wide blade clearly too large for easy removal. 

 

Gently, he knocked her hand away, and pulled the blade free, “Your knife is too large for eye-stabbing. Try here,” he pointed, “Where your foot was. Between the clavicle and shoulder blade. This blade is long enough to reach the heart from there. My thanks, Kamaria, that was well done.”

 

The little girl looked at him funny, and he realized he had mistakenly called her by his daughter’s name. It fit so well that it nearly brought tears to his eyes, so he shrugged and did not correct himself. “You are much like my daughter was. Her name fits you.”

 

She nodded, but there was fear in her eyes as she took off again. Drax shook his head. He would ask later.

 

***

 

The battle was basically over, Not-Peter, Nebula, Jafir and Drax were taking care of the last few pirates stupid enough to attack a Ravager ship. The rest of the crew was hauling the corpses back to the ships they had come from, putting the unconscious in the brig, and raiding the ships for anything useful. Yondu recalled Yaka and rested.

 

Bitty came into the security room, pale and quiet. 

 

“Bitty?”

 

She broke, and threw herself onto his chest, sobbing.

 

“Hey, now, fly-girl, what’s this for?”

 

She told him. Told him about Gun nearly dying because he used his power too much, told him about Drax calling her his daughter’s name, and how it felt like the beginnings of a Naming, told him about the Curse, and how she was certain Drax would soon die a horrible death, and Loki wasn’t here to prevent it.

 

He held her until she was cried out. “Gun is fine, and he’ll get better about using his powers. Drax is strong, even your curse will have a hard time takin’ ‘im out, in the meantime, we’ll figure out a way around it.” He kept saying it until she hiccupped and the tears subsided. “Now, what’s this about you flyin?”

 

She giggled wetly and showed him.

 

***

 

Drax sat on his bunk, unsettled. He wasn’t sure why he had called the child by his daughter’s name, he was less sure if it was… acceptable that he had done so. It should have felt wrong, surely, was it wrong that it didn’t? The name had fallen easily from his lips as it had not in many years.  He dug into his bags and pulled out a fist-sized rock. He held the obsidian meteorite gently and thought of home for the first time in a long time without pain.

 

Moonrise on his planet was a truly spectacular sight. His moon did not glow with reflected light from his sun, as he had seen other moons do on other planets. Instead, it shone with its own light, black and red as its surface flowed with rivers of lava and the constantly-erupting volcanoes shot fire into space and rained rocks, like the one he held, down upon the planet. When his people had still believed mostly in myths, they had believed that at the center of the moon were great dragons, whose battles caused the eruptions and the rain of glass. He had named his daughter for those very dragons, for her soul was surely a fire that burned brightly, fought fiercely, and changed the very shape of the world around him. 

 

The princess was not his daughter, he had no confusion about that. But… he paused, and pulled out a small set of tools, beginning to shape the rock his daughter had given him as other children give their parents flowers. The princess, too, reminded him of his moon. Perhaps, she was another Dragon. One from another world, yes, but a Dragon like those of his moon nonetheless.

 

***

 

When Drax next saw the princess, she was sitting alone on a catwalk, her feet dangling over the open cargo bay below. Slowly, Drax sat down next to her, mimicking her pose. He sat quietly for a minute, to be sure his presence was not unwelcome, and watched her carefully.

 

“You were afraid,” he said quietly, “When I called you by my daughter’s name. You are afraid, now.”

 

“Yes,” she answered simply.

 

Drax nodded to himself. “Will you tell me why?”

 

She sat silently for a long time, but Drax was patient. As she made no move to leave, he, too, remained still. Finally, slowly, haltingly at first, she began to speak. She spoke of her mother, who died before naming her, of her father who refused to name her. She spoke of her sister, murdered for trying to name her. She spoke of how she met Gun, and the boys who named her “Mouse.” She spoke of the Curse, and how Queen Frigga averted their deaths by carving off the part of their...souls that Named her so cruelly, and allowing only that part to die.

 

“I like you,” she finished, “I don’t want any part of you to die.”

 

Now it was Drax’s turn to be silent, and the princess’s turn to wait. Then, he told her of his homeworld, of moons and dragons, of Kamaria.

 

“You are not a mouse, calling you that is stupid. You are a dragon, like the one my daughter embodied. You are not her, nor is your dragon of my moon, but you put me in mind of them.”

 

“Magma.”

 

“What?”

 

“My world is much like your moon, but with more air and water. There are many volcanoes that are constantly active. Below the surface of my world is what we call magma. It is molten metal and stone, under pressure and constantly moving. It moves in a circular motion, causing the earth’s rotation, shifting the surface and causing earthquakes, bubbling up through cracks in the surface to make volcanoes. Pabbi, instead of giving me a name, sought to find my name as the Jachkt do. We haven’t yet told anyone. He found my name. It means Magma.”

 

Drax thought for a moment. “So your name IS of my dragons. Dragon you shall be, then. A Dragon of Terra as my Kamaria was a Dragon of our Moon.” He paused and dug into his pocket, pulling out a small bundle and passing it to her. 

 

“A dragon must have claws. We call the obsidian meteorites that fall from our moon ‘Dragon Claws,’” he clarified.

 

She opened the bundle and gasped at the solid-obsidian punching dagger she found.

 

“Perfect for eye-stabbing!” she cheered, “Thank you!”

 

***

 

It was late. Most of the crew slept. Mantis could make out the faint sounds of Kraglin muttering to himself as he worked on his machines, but that wasn’t why she was awake. It was a closer, softer …. Not sound. A silence where sound should be. As quietly as she could, Mantis got out of bed and followed the silence. Down, under the docks of the Milano in the Eclector’s hangar bays, she found it’s source.

 

Nebula sat curled up in the dark, her face blank, while her body shivered despite the warmth of the ship, scarcely breathing, eyes wide. Staying where she knew Nebula could see her, Mantis crept carefully into the small space beside Nebula. They sat silently, unmoving for a moment. 

 

Finally, one of them moved. Biting her lip, Mantis reached slowly across the gap and, despite her trepidation, firmly clasped Nebula’s hand. The pain and terror, loneliness and sorrow, were agonizing, but Nebula could not so much as whimper, never mind weep as she so dearly needed to. Mantis wept, and wished it could help. Searching her mind for anything that would help, there was a twist, and like water in a pipe whose valve had been opened, the pressure inside Nebulas mind eased as Mantis sobbed.

 

Nebula came back to herself with a single tear slipping off of her chin, the unaccustomed sensation of her hand being held drawing her eyes down to follow graceful fingers to weak wrist, pathetic arm to frail body and eyes that cried easily. 

 

“Mantis?” her throat hurt from screams she hadn’t allowed it to utter. “What are you doing? Stop it.”

 

Mantis held on as Nebula tried to shake her grasp. 

  
  
“No,” Mantis said firmly, “You’re not done crying yet.”

 

“Let me go. You don’t have to…”

 

“But you need me to, so I will.”

 

“Enough, sister! ...Enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids are not meant to deal with the kinds of stressors these kids deal with, breakdowns are GOING to happen, and that's perfectly natural. Yondu does the right thing by hearing her out, letting her cry until she was done, and THEN reassuring her, followed by a distraction that she enjoys to close it off. Drax also does the right thing. HUZZAH FOR REASONABLY BALANCED ADULTS!
> 
> Crying is an often necessary way to vent feelings and reduce biological stress caused by pent-up emotions. Chronically abused persons may have difficulty crying. Mantis loopholes this problem by enabling her own tears on behalf of Nebula to serve as the vent Nebula needs.


	4. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The value of names is discussed, tea parties are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long. RenFaire ate my brain. Also people got sick. RenFaire is over, nobody is sick, and I can get back to posting, writing, and job hunting.
> 
> Love Fest:  
> Quadrad, Shadows_of_Shemai, Tsita, Snowdove30, willowfire, SionnachOiche3, Joey99, wynni, ClockWeasel, hhhellcat, Selene_Aduial, and all the new kudoers!

The next day, the four children ate, for each meal, four times the amount they had eaten the entire day before. Nine-foot-tall Jafir laughed that the tiny thing that announced at breakfast that she wished to be called Lava ate more than he did. (Drax grinned and called her instead “Tongue of the Dragon,” she grinned back, so no one said anything.) If what Sandra passed along about Terran Mutants’ abilities, and their downsides, was an indication,  their appetites after a day of heavy power use were perfectly normal. Much to Yondu’s relief. He’d been worried that it was an indication of something wrong with them, some fever or some sort.

 

On their third plates of lunch, conversation turned towards the various species represented among the crew of the Eclector. The children asked all sorts of downright silly questions intermingled with surprisingly observant ones, keeping the mood among the crew light on a subject as potentially touchy as species. The Kree weren’t the only speciesist assholes, just the loudest.

 

As she started in on her fourth sandwich, Lava turned to Mantis.

 

“So what about your species?”

 

Mantis shifted in her seat, uncomfortably. “I do not know much of my species, as I was raised by Ego. I know that we are an insectoid species, with a larva, pupa, and adult state, and that we are called Mantids, but I do not know what planet or star system we are native to, nor anything else. Ego never told me, it was not important to my purpose.”

 

Lava’s face was blank with carefully held anger.  “Your name is your race?”

 

Mantis paused and thought. “...Yes, I suppose it is.”

 

Lava sputtered incoherently for a minute before swearing vociferously in Jachkthdaghe. Rocket stopped eating his meatcake and stared at Mantis for a moment.

 

“That’s… That’s fucked up. I have a name that isn’t ‘racoon’, and I’m just a science experiment gone wrong.”

 

“I am GROOT,” Groot scolded.

 

“Yes, Groot, I am a person, but I didn’t necessarily start out that way. And even  _ then _ , my fucked up scientists gave me a number unique to  _ me. _ ”

 

“I do not understand,” Mantis shook her head, “Is this a bad thing?”

 

Peter sighed, “I wouldn’t take in a non-sapient animal and fail to give it a name, to do that to a  _ person… _ ” He shook his head. 

 

Lava had, by this point calmed down, but was still breathing hard. “Names are important. They mark you as a person, valued, irreplaceable, unique. We do not name a fork, because they aren’t important, don’t matter, and there’s dozens of others just like it. But there is only one  _ you  _ in all the universe,” she lectured as if she was quoting one she had heard. “It is easy to mistreat a bag or a fork, they’re useful, but replaceable. Give something a name of it’s own and it becomes unique, and much harder to mistreat. I did not go without a name for seven years because no one would give me one. I chose to do without one for three years because everyone who tried to name me died, and I did not want to be the cause of further deaths. Every. Single. Person. I met after Katerine died was enraged that I had no name. Every. Single. One. Wanted to give me a name. It is  _ wrong _ to treat a person as a thing. Taking away names is a way of….thingifying a person.”

 

By this time, Lava was red in the face and out of breath again. “I want to go to the rocks that used to be Ego...and pee on them.” She paused and worked to calm herself, again, “I need a cookie. With chocolate,” she decided, and huffed over to the galley to raid the dessert bar.

 

Nebula shrugged, “I don’t get why it’s bad either, but… Even Thanos named us.”

 

Nebula stood and left as Mantis turned to Gamora, Drax and Yondu.

 

Drax and Gamora looked to Yondu, who was thinking, hard.

 

“I’ve never thought of it before,” he started slowly, “But it seems to me that the former-crew members who did want to eat Peter only ever called him ‘Terran’, and treated him like some kinda animal, and the Kree never called us anything but ‘slave’ except as they introduced us in the fightin’ ring. Now, for some species, that’s not much of a problem, they’re hive-minded, what one knows or thinks, they all do, so calling any one of them ‘The Sakaaran,’ for example,” he waved his hand as if to shoo a fly, “makes perfect sense. But Terrans, they’re even more individual-minded than most. They pride themselves on it, chaotic little buggers that they are. Makes ‘em problematic for slavers, because they  _ won’t _ just take orders, won’t just bow, and insist on doing everything with their own methods, often reinventing things or inventing new things to accomplish tasks. It also means that slavery is much harder on them, as a slave is a thing, not a person.” He took a long drink from his glass and thought some more. “You are clearly not hive-minded, so, for any species, it would be wrong not to give you a name, because the intent would be to make you less than you are. I don’t think many would be quite as angry ‘bout it as the Terrans, but it would still be wrong, if not the level of abominably inhumane that it is to people as individualistic as Terrans are.”

 

Drax nodded and thought back, more carefully over his conversations with Lava regarding names. Looking them over in this new light, yes,  it was much worse for her than he had thought, worse than she had let on, and he could see why Mantis’ name would enrage her. He shrugged, “I did not think it particularly bad, but I can understand why Lava and Rocket would be more angered by it than I. Their kind have names from birth, my people only give names when a child is old enough for their personality and soul to be evident. You should at least have had a name by the time you were a pupa, though.”

 

Caddell’s face reflected confusion, “I thought pupa are stationary? Like Butterflies in their chrysalis.”

 

Yondu nodded, “For the bug-type insects, that’s true, but many insectoid-type sapient species actually have what you Terrans call nymphs instead of larvae and pupae, but we call them pupae because Nymphs are an actual species separately. Pupa here is about the same as ‘toddler’ is for humans.”

 

Caddell’s face cleared, “Oh, okay. That makes sense, I guess.”

 

Mantis’ head went sideways. “What would you name me?”

 

Gamora smiled, “Why do you not choose your own name? You are your own person now, as you were not when you were Ego’s. Name yourself.”

 

Mantis nodded defiantly, rising to the challenge, as Gamora knew she would, “I will.”

 

***

 

While Mantis dove enthusiastically into researching names, their format, and their meanings, including reading every book Yondu had stockpiled on the subject, Lava, Caddell, and Colin glared Peter into the cargo bay to begin training his new-found powers. While Gamora and Nebula pushed Gun to exercise his powers more, throwing things at random and expecting him to block them effectively.

 

“It may not be exactly the same thing as seidr, but I would guess most of the basics still apply,” Lava told Peter authoritatively, “One of which is that if you don’t learn to control it, it  _ will  _ control you.” She glared until Peter sat down where she pointed.

 

They worked him to the edge of exhaustion every day for three days, continuously frustrated that he didn’t grasp things as quickly as they thought they had. Finally, he had a decent grasp of shielding, and Lava shrugged. 

 

“I’m going to assume that you have difficulty with it because it’s slightly different than what we use, and you are coming to it later than we did. I don’t think the seidmadr of Asgard can teach you better than we can, though Pabbi might, but perhaps the teachers at Zoe’s school can. Your celestial powers may be closer to the mutants’ abilities than they are to seidr. When we get home, get Aunt Darcy to call Dr. Grey for you. She’ll know. For now, shielding will do, so long as you keep practicing.”

 

***

 

Some time after lunch on the fourth day, Gun came in to the mess, sweating and exhausted. Peter shared a commiserating look with him. Motioning him to sit, Peter went into the galley and came back with a mug of something steaming and placed it in front of Gun. 

 

“It’s not hot chocolate like we had on Earth, but it’s as close as Yondu was ever able to get. It’ll help.”

 

Gun nodded his thanks, and the two turned back to the baffling sight in front of them.

 

Yondu was in an old, ratty, tweed suit and a flower-bedecked hat he had found in junkshops somewhere.. The twins had found bits of suits much too large for them, and very much mismatched. Lava was in a strange amalgamation of torn and stained lace and wrapped in old taffeta, topped with a hat even more glorious than Yondu’s, with feathers everywhere.

 

Yondu was trying to get Caddell’s elbows off the table at the same time as getting Colin to sit still, on his butt, with his feet under the table. Lava was wiggling and giggling at Yondu’s every exasperated look. Yondu sighed heavily.

 

“Come on, now. If we’re going to have a proper tea, we need to have proper manners. Colin, sit straight, don’t slouch. If you all can have your Tea with proper manners, I’ll get out the desserts, and you can slouch, wiggle, and put your feet on the table for that. Tea and manners, first.”

 

Peter struggled not to laugh, and Gun’s eyes enlivened and filled with merriment. They shared a look, and Peter grinned.   
  
“May we join you, Mary Poppins?”

 

“Are you going to have half-decent manners?”

 

“Of course,” Gun beamed.

 

“Then please, feel free to join the barbarians.”

 

Before long, Yondu was waxing most eloquent on the etiquette of bribery, much to the delight  of all who witnessed it.

 

***

 

At breakfast, a grinning Mantis waited for all the crew to be seated and cleared her throat to get their attention.

Bouncing in place slightly, she announced, “At Gamora’s suggestion, and after much research into the subject, I have decided on a name for myself. Some of you know that yesterday, my name was the same as that of my species. Today, this is no longer the case. Beginning today, my name is Linh-Anh Tien Mantis.” The Guardians cheered.

 

Kraglin’s  voice came over the  intercom, “Cap’n, we’re now rounding Mars, Earth will be in sight in a quarter mark. We’ll be able to begin landing in two marks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh, I don't have any notes written down for this chapter and can't think of anything that needs further elaboration. If you have questions, just ask, please...


	5. Earthbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Eclector lands, shenanigans occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LoveFest: Tsita, Beth_Mac, Snowecat, Shadows_of_Shemai, Wynni, willowfire, hhhellcat, Joey99, Addie_Lover_of_Stories, Selene_Aduial

The Eclector waited behind the moon while Rocket tapped into one of the planet’s communications satellites and dialled the number Caddell rattled off to him. He had a feeling it was  _ not _ a direct number for landing control and let the Twins handle the call.

 

“You have reached Stark Industries,” said a crisp male voice through the speakers of the com system. “How may I direct your call?”

 

“Hi, JARVIS!” Colin cheered.

 

“Ah, Colin. I trust your brother and cousin are with you?”

 

“Uh-huh! We’re behind the moon!”

 

“It is a pleasure to hear your voice again, Master Colin. If you will let the pilot speak with me a moment, I will connect you to Ms Lewis while I arrange landing coordinates and time for you.”

 

Kraglin and Rocket exchanged information  with JARVIS to allow him access to their navigation systems, and them access to his data, and there  was a brief beeping tone and a woman’s voice came on the line.

 

“You four are in SO much trouble.”

 

All four of the children cringed simultaneously. Caddell whined, “Aunt Daaaarcyyy, we were with desigtated adults the whole tiiiiime.”

 

“Designated adults, hah! You left without telling anyone where you were going, Loki didn't know you were with him till you got to the Eclector, and don't THINK Jillian and Sandra didn't tell me about that space battle. ALL your weapons are hidden and will remain so until you earn them back. Your Mama has been worried  _ sick  _ since she got home, and who do you think had to tell her you'd wandered off to SPACE???”

 

“....You?”

 

The woman on the line snorted, “HECK, No, I happen to  _ like _ living. I made Uncle Bucky do it. He’s harder to maim. So you have to make it up to him AND your Ma, AND to NatMonster, who kept your Ma from crying her eyes out over you.”

 

Colin whimpered, Caddell cringed, Lava sighed heavily, and Gun slumped, defeated.   
  
***   
  


Between them, JARVIS and Skye got all the satellites turned so the Eclector’s approach vector would be unseen by anyone, and Kraglin and Rocket piloted through the strange, curving path, planned to avoid aircraft flight paths, towards upstate New York. There may have been some arguing, which was entirely ordinary when Rocket was at one set of controls and anyone else at all was at the other.

 

They landed Dayside, in the middle of a large bit of land that was nothing but trees. Yondu was a bit worried, but when they opened the hatch and disembarked, Guardians and Four first, there was a small jet, a group of  five people with an empty wheelchair that looked quite capable of handling rough terrain. A man who reeked of money, even if he dressed closer to Peter than anyone, stepped forward, turned back and waved at the brunette woman.

 

“Do the thing, you’re good at it,” he said before turning and heading straight for Kraglin and Rocket. “Mechanics!” he paused next to Yondu, “Give me a couple days and some accurate measurements and I’ll have you walking again. In the meantime, I’d bet that that chair over there will work better than this one.” He turned back to the mechanics he’d identified by some unknown means (engine grease vs. food grease, Tony later confided), grabbed them, and pulled them back towards the ship, saying things that sounded like questions but were entirely equations.

 

The brunette had her face in her hand. Yondu liked her already. 

 

“Mechanics,” she sighed.

 

“Mechanics,” he nodded.

 

***

“So anyways, this is where all you lovely space-pirate types will be staying,” Darcy finished the tour.  “There’s already food, and a delivery service can bring anything else you need, just relay your requests through Jarvis.”

 

“Jarvis?” one of her charges asked.  They all seemed a little, okay, a lot, lost.  They didn’t exactly fit with the modern-industrial style, which wasn’t helping the appearance of muddy puppies on the white living room carpet.

 

“I am the artificial intelligence created by Mr. Stark to tend to his and his guests’ needs,” Jarvis answered primly.  “It helps some to think of me as a butler, but after review of the Ravager charter, I think you might be better suited to the metaphor of a quartermaster.  I’d ask as a personal favor that you try not to demolish too much of the building. While Mr. Stark is certainly able to effect repairs, I find excessive infrastructure damage… distressing.”

 

The Ravagers looked at her.  She looked at Yondu.

 

“Jarvis controls the building, even if Tony said you can party hard, please don’t.  Exposed wiring is for him as gut on the outside is for us fleshy people.”

 

“He’s like an orgo-ship,” Yondu translated, and the Ravagers nodded.  “You break him, you make it up to him. I’ll not stand for torture of a friendly.”

 

“It’s not torture, per se,” Jarvis started.  Darcy cut him off.

 

“You’ve still got trauma from body loss, watching another get thrashed isn’t good for you.  Besides, I want to see how well behaved they can be before okaying shore leave arrangements.”

 

“Shore leave?” Yondu asked.  He clearly thought this  _ was _ shore leave, and that was heartbreaking.

 

“Entertainment in town.  I know the type of establishment they’re used to won’t be available, the sex trade is currently both illegal in most places here, and almost entirely sourced from women with not much else they  _ can _ do, or who are entirely unwilling participants.  I’m not finding them a brothel. If they can respect Jarvis, maybe I can trust them in the Earth-accepted equivalent.  If not, I’m limiting them to karaoke and chaperoned trips to movies and plays. I’m a good host, but I’m an Avenger first.”

 

“And you’ve got to protect your people,” he said with understanding.  “Okay, you grubworms, listen up! The nice lady is willing to find you fun about town, but what kind of fun depends on how well you can act like you’re maybe civilized bein’s.  Act up while I’m gone, break her stuff, or leave the property, and I’ll have you left here when the others get to see some of Terra. Make her mad, and we leave. You got it?”

 

A chorus of “aye, captain”s floated up.  Yondu pointed to a tall, gawky man, emerging from the door to the garage with Tony.  “Kraglin is in charge while I’m gone, as he’s the most house-trained of the lot of you.  If you’re not sure if it would make the Avengers mad, ask Krags. If HE says no, you damn well don’t do it.”

 

They departed soon after that ultimatum and Darcy bent down to give Yondu a hug.

 

“Thank you for bringing our people home,” she said.  As she straightened, she thought she caught a blush. “And good job with Peter, he’s not as much a basket case as would be normal.  Actually, I think he’s better off than half my kids. Now, you want to get some food?”

 

“That’s not saying much, Mama,” The redhead pitched in.

 

“Eh, several of them are actively heroic, and Brina and Galina went entirely civilian.  I’ve only had three engage in any kind of villainy, and Nika is actually keeping the Bratva in Vegas from being as bad as they could.  Now, I said food. We’re getting food. Priorities, Natka.”

 

“You spend too much time with Papa and Clint,” Natasha retorted.  “I want barbeque. With Nana Liz’s secret sauce.”

 

“Fair enough, I’ll text Clint, you keep Tony focused on not overloading our guest in the ‘jet.”

 

“Ugh, unfair.”

 

“And?  We’re Russian, sweetie, we take our fair where we can get it, and I called dibs.”

 

She looked down at Yondu and realized that exchange made no sense out of context.

 

“You’re a good captain,” he said, and Bucky burst out laughing.

 

***

 

_ Meanwhile, back at the ranch… _

 

Okay, Bucky had  _ officially _ spent too much time with Clint. “Back at the ranch,” indeed. Their guests were being….frustrating, though. Peter didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, especially upon actually meeting  _ in person _ his childhood comic heroes. Apparently, sharing headspace isn’t the same thing. Cue Eyerolls. The one he thought might have been Mantis stood off to the side, clearly unsure of  _ everything. _ Gamora, Nebula, and Drax didn’t seem to know what to do with  _ them _ . Finally, Colin, all eyerolls, forcibly dragged Nebula (he assumed that was Nebula, he’d seen Gamora before, and this one was blue) over to him. 

 

“Take your Sleeve off please.”

 

Knowing that inflection, Bucky pulled off the jacket and the pseudo-skin Tony was having him try on to disguise the hand of his prosthetic.

 

“Alright, why?” he asked, wiggling the fingers to reset them.

 

“NebulaMonster needed to see that she’s not weird here.”

 

He looked up to Nebula, who was taking off her own cybernetic arm, much to Colin’s dismay. “NEBULAAAAA! It hurts you when you do that! Stop it!”

 

“There is something stuck in my gears. It is reducing function by 16%. I am removing it.”

 

Little pulled on his other hand, he looked back down at her, “Yes, LittleBit?” 

 

“Nebula doesn’t know how to take care of herself beyond  _ maintaining functionality _ yet. The boys and I were hoping you would know how to help with that.”

 

Nebula looked confused as she reattached her arm, after removing some bit of debris, while Colin and Caddell tried to work magic fast enough to block the pain of reattaching her arm.

 

“I do not understand.”

 

Bucky smiled, “That’s alright, no one actually expects you to right now. You will, though. In the meantime… Colin called you NebulaMonster. Did he explain what that means?”

 

Nebula blinked, “Yes…”

 

“Did they tell you about NatMonster?”

 

“Yes, but what - ?”

 

“NatMonster is the red-haired woman you saw earlier. She is my daughter in all but blood. This  _ family  _ is made up entirely of monsters and those who love  _ us. _ When the twins named you Monster, you became part of this family. For  _ all _ members of this family, there are two rules:” he counted off on his fingers, ”No one gets left behind, or forgotten.  Everyone gets the help they need from anyone who can give it.”

 

“I will assist where it is needed,” Nebula said, seeming wary.  Bucky felt the soft sadness build in him again, the pain of seeing someone lose themselves to abuse.

 

Bucky shook his head slightly, “You are still learning what that means, so for now,  _ we  _ will help  _ you _ . You don’t understand yet. That’s to be expected right now. Until you do understand, the rules you should follow, in terms you do understand: Unnecessary pain is wrong and decreases your ability to function. If you think you’re capable now, wait until you no longer hurt and see what you can do. Therefore, unless  _ absolutely necessary for survival _ , if it hurts, do _ not  _ do it. If it’s needed to function and hurts, stop and get help. We can help get it done in a way that doesn’t hurt. Second,” he glanced up to watch the others slowly coming nearer to hear better, and dropped his voice to pull them in more,  “food is meant to be enjoyed. Eating only for survival needs reduces your effectivity. We don’t have a shortage of food. If you try something and don’t like it, don’t eat it. Try something else instead. If you try something and enjoy it, eat as much of it as you want, short of putting yourself in pain. Third, if you find that you enjoy something, even and especially if it has nothing to do with necessity, do it. Spending time to rest and enjoy yourself increases productivity and efficiency. Lastly, do not, and I really mean do  _ not _ , wait until you absolutely need help to ask for it. You will not be denied help among us. If you could use help, ask for it. “

 

He looked at the assembled aliens.

 

“Can you follow those rules?”

 

Nebula, who had been staring, bemused, the entire time thought carefully over what he had said. “I do not know… I am not sure I know how to do those things.”

 

Steve, listening on the sidelines nodded amiably. “Just try. The more you try, the more you’ll learn.  The goal is not needing rules at all, but until you get there, we can also help you learn to ask, and enjoy, and be healthier.”

 

Nebula nodded cautiously, “I can try.”

 

Bucky smiled, and turned the smile on Mantis, Gamora, and Drax. Drax was nodding along, if the intel was correct, he had had a family, a good one, he understood these concepts. Gamora was a little more unsure, but determined to support her sister. Mantis was nearly as confused as Nebula. Bucky sighed internally and made a point of making eye contact with her and with Gamora, “That goes for you two, too. Drax knows what I mean, so he doesn’t need the last three rules, though the first two apply because those are just family law at this point. You two seem to need all of the rules.”

 

“I can do that,” Gamora answered.

 

Mantis shook her head, “I only learned yesterday that having no name of my own despite not being a hive-mind was wrong. I do not understand the purpose of these rules, but I will do my best to abide by them.”

 

Gamora laid a hand on Mantis’s arm, “You are allowed to express negative opinions. Would you like different rules, better suited to helping you?”

 

Mantis nodded, “Yes, I think that would be good. I do not habitually do things that are painful, and I understand eating.”

 

Bucky and Steve nodded. 

 

Steve smiled at her, “I am afraid we don’t know as much about you as we know about Nebula and Gamora. Through Peter, we knew enough to know that Bucky, Darcy, and Nat have much in common with their histories, so we can tell what they need quickly and easily, because we have much more experience with seeing their needs on other faces. Perhaps on the way home from here, you can tell us your story, then we will know what to help you with, and who among our family is best suited to helping you write your rules. I can think of a few who might help, but I can’t say for sure which one will be best yet.”

 

Mantis reached out and touched Steve’s hand for a moment, then slowly smiled.

 

“Yes, I can do that. As of today, I am Linh-Anh Tien Mantis. Yesterday, I was Mantis, which is the name of one of my species. Peter says it is like calling one of your canines ‘dog’. Today, I have a name that is mine.”

 

Bucky smiled, “It is very nice to meet you, Linh-Anh.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rules were a bitch and a half to write and figure out, but I fully believe they are necessary. As Lava says, "She doesn't know how to take care of herself yet". But rules for one person aren't always helpful to every person, I STILL don't know what Mantis' rules will be, so feel free to voice an opinion.
> 
> Lava will not be called Lava for a bit yet by the earthbound-folks. She hasn't told them yet, and isn't sure she SHOULD without Loki there. From my standpoint, it's something that everyone would feel a need to have that party over, but can you have a party without Loki there?
> 
> "Meanwhile, back at the ranch..." Bucky made a reference to an oooold tv show. Because it was low budget back when everything was filmed in one tiny space, whenever they switched from say the bar to the homestead there was a black screen and just "Meanwhile, Back at the ranch..." or wherever the next scene was
> 
> I really did try to do research regarding Mantis' Issues, but there's very little that applies. Which is FANTASTIC because it means there are very few cases like hers.... but it's annoying as fuck as there's nothing to base a recovery plan for her ON...


	6. Mechanics, Reunions, and Other Dangerous Combinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, tranqs and a party...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This is almost the last chapter before we start getting into Mature Audience Only territory, triggers will be pulled, with bits and pieces of that trickling in over the next two chapters, chapters 9, 10, and 11 will go up at the same time so you can skip what you can't safely read, possibly chapter 12 too. 
> 
> Love fest:   
> Shadows_of_Shemai, Wynni, Beacuzz, Joey99, Addie_Lover_of_Stories, ClockWeasel, Tsita, willowfire, critterlady, SionnachOiche3, Readertee, SeleneAduial, hhhellcat

Tony found he quite liked the raccoon genius, despite the differences in their backgrounds, they communicated in much the same way, being mostly insults and equations, and worked much the same way. With Darcy’s collection of scientists like Bruce and Betty, he finally had people who could keep up with him, but it still wasn’t often he got to play with people who could keep up with him in his hard, metal-and-electricity sciences. Brucie-bear could keep up in the numbers game, but didn’t play the nuts-bolts-and-numbers game. 

 

Rocket didn’t even complain about the volume of his music as they crawled through the engines and jump-drives of the various ships. Nobody failed to complain about his music. And the little walking sapling gleefully danced to whatever music was on, no matter what year or genre, which earned him more than a few points, too.

 

There was, however, one problem.

 

“Hey, Stitch --” His request for a socket wrench was interrupted by the very wrench being thrown at his head.

 

“I am GROOT!” the twig scolded.

 

“What. Was. That?”

 

They didn’t necessarily get  _ everything _ he said. He kept forgetting.

 

“Oh. Yeah. I can see how that could…. Jarvis, we’re watching Lilo & Stitch tonight. Mandatory family viewing. On the BIG screen.”

 

“Yes, Sir, shall I inform Ms. Lewis?”

 

“And Covenant.”   
  
“Agent Barnes would like to remind you that, appearances aside, he has nothing in common with that character.”

 

“Yeah, Yeah,” his attention was already back on the small angry people next to him, so Jarvis only sighed.

 

“Lilo and Stitch is basically this family’s favorite movie, at least within the top five for every one of the… Jarvis?”

 

“Thirty-nine Family members currently residing in or around the Tower greater than 25% of the time.”

 

“That. And Stitch is everyone’s favorite character. So, while it  _ sounds  _ like an insult, it totally wasn’t.”

 

As Rocket continued to glare, Tony continued, which was usually a bad idea, “Like, okay,  _ some _ people might use that word in particular as an insult, but a fair number are referring to the character, which is not an insult. Because no one who’s seen the movie has anything but love and adoration for the character named Stitch. I want some coffee, you want some coffee? Let’s get coffee. Jarvis!”

 

“Sir, I would like to remind you that Mr. Rocket’s biology may not react well with caffeine on the levels you prefer. May I suggest a lower level of caffeine?”

 

“...Ask Bruce?”

 

“Of course, Sir. One moment. The primary limiter appears to be Rocket's lower body mass, Dr. Banner recommends half-caf as replacement for espresso, decaf for regular coffee.”

 

***

 

When Darcy and Nat managed to drag Tony, Rocket, and Groot back to the quinjet, Rocket was fair vibrating, and Groot was dancing without music.

 

“Quill! Quill!” Rocket yelled, louder than strictly necessary in the small clearing, “Terra has this stuff like jav that actually tastes good and has four times the caffeine!”

 

Darcy sighed. Peter turned to her, “Did you give them  _ coffee? _ ”

 

“Tony gave him half-caf coffee. Apparently Groot stole a couple sips.”   
  
Peter looked from her to Rocket and back, “How  _ much _ half-caf did he drink?”

 

“SIX CUPS!” Rocket cheered, rambling quickly, almost too fast to understand, “Imean,theywerelittlecupsnotordinarysizedcupsandTonywouldn'tletmehavehistinycupsofespressoeventhoughhewasdrinkingit.”

 

Peter sighed while Yondu did the math. “So... in less than a mark, you drank the equivalent of twelve cups of jav?”

 

“YES!” Rocket laughed.

 

Yondu nodded sagely, pulled something out of his jacket and calmly shot Rocket.

 

“Tranq gun,” he said, as Groot kicked him repeatedly in the shins he couldn't really feel much anyways, “Sometimes Kraglin needs to be shot, too, when he gets into the jav and works on machines for two days straight. I think it's a Mechanic thing.”

 

Little picked up Groot and crooned something too him as he yawned on her shoulder and Drax gently picked up the comatose Rocket, taking the opportunity to gently pet the fur beneath his hands. Groot grumbled and Little patted his back soothingly.

 

“Alright,” Darcy sighed.  She wasn’t as okay with shooting teammates as Yondu, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been tempted to use an Icer on Jane a time or two, and if Tony had six espressos to go with Rocket’s six cups of half caf, she’d probably soon be considering shooting him with an Icer too.  “Home,” she said, after looking at her phone, “and the barbeque Clint has started for us. Let's load up and get going, I'm hungry.”

 

***

 

Yondu looked around the atmo-ship from his position in the dock intended for chairs like his. The others were still loading up the cargo holds that were only accessible from the outside with the Guardian’s gear. It was…. Odd. Smaller than ships like the Milano, bigger than fighter ships, but not quite as big as the short-range mass-transit ships.  He looked over at the metal armed man who had gotten him and his chair secured for atmo-transit, “What kinda ship is this?”

 

Bucky looked up from checking the last locks on the wheels, “It’s called a quinjet. There’s several different varieties. We have two, one, for mission use, has six seats in the back plus the four in the cockpit, internal cargo space for personal weapons and medkits, and is a bit smaller than this one. This one still has the built in weapons systems, but is more defensive. Darcy calls it ‘the minivan’.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “A minivan is a ground transit vehicle intended for taking the whole family and some small cargo where they need to go. Our family is...rather extensive, so we needed transport that could seat most of them, but still quickly get to and  land anywhere in the world.”

 

Yondu pondered that a moment. “What’re it’s capabilities?”   
  
Bucky grinned. Pilots. “Regular, cruising flight averages at ten times the speed of sound, Atmo max speeds are 34 times the speed of sound - you need 33 to escape this planet’s gravity.  It can land on just about any terrain. Five guns, two forward facing, two rear facing, and a bottom-mounted turret with a full hemisphere firing range. Basic retro-reflective cloaking. 16 ordinary seats, if they’re quite comfortable with each other, plus six in the cockpit, and two docks for wheelchairs. This one hasn’t been tested in space, but Tony likes to fiddle with the idea of making them at least inter-planetary capable. Thanks to crawling around your ship’s engines, he’ll probably manage to make one interstellar.” He turned as Tony came in, “Am I missing anything?”

 

Since Tony’s response was in the equation-riddled gibberish of mechanics, Yondu ignored it. “Basic cloaking” and atmo cruising speeds ten times the speed of sound…. Terrans had come a looooong way since he picked Peter up, faster than most species ever did.

  
  


***

 

A half-mark later, Bucky stood from where he and Steve spoke with Linh-Anh, smiled, and pointed out the window as they approached New York City from the north east, “Look.” The sun was just setting behind the city, painting sky and glass rainbow hues; tall towers were green in the shadows, but reflected back the blue, lavender, pink, orange and yellows of the sky in little rectangles of color, the Chrysler Building shone a hot white in the summer sky, and the Avengers’ Tower with its blue-white A stood tall against a backdrop more beautiful than any artist could paint.

 

“I never saw the city before Yondu picked me up,” Peter said in hushed, awed tones.   
  


“It is beautiful,” Linh-Anh  whispered.

 

“How tall’re they?” Yondu asked.   
  
Steve smiled, it was always a good feeling when people new to it appreciated the sight of his city. “The shiny tower there, called the Chrysler Building, is 1,046 feet tall, Empire state, the tallest one over there, is 1,454 feet tall, ours is the glowing one there, and it’s 1,277 feet tall.”

 

“How big is a ‘foot’?” Drax asked. Steve showed him with his hands. 

 

“Well, I’m 6.2 feet tall, so our tower is 206 of me in height, and the tallest tower is 234.5 of me.”

 

Yondu whistled. Terrans kept being surprising, they were almost predictable in their ability to elicit that emotion, so he didn’t know why he was still surprised.   
  
  
***

 

Coulson and Warren met them in the hangar. While the children shrieked with glee and swarmed the two men to hug their favorite babysitters and tell them  _ everything  _ in thirty seconds flat, Warren looked up to Darcy disembarking from the jet.

 

“We tried to stop them, Lieu, really we did.”

 

“Stop who from what?” she asked.   
  
Coulson sighed, “Ciara got bored, we’re your early warning system.”   
  
“Oh, Norns, what blew up?”

 

“Nothing yet.”   
  
“Ciara blows things up when she’s bored.”   
  
“I like her already,” Rocket interrupted.

 

“Usually,” Phil nodded amiably, “but she decided on a different method of destruction today, and we couldn’t dissuade her, and then everyone else got involved….” Coulson trailed off, so Warren picked up where he left off.

 

“They’re throwing a Welcome party.”

 

“I just wanted some barbeque.”   
  
“Yes, and Ciara got bored.”

 

“Helheim. How many people are here?”   
  
“Just Family…”

 

“How. Many.”

 

“... just the ones based in this half of the States?” Warren offered.  Darcy blanched and Coulson stepped in.

 

“Of the midwestern branch, only your Aunt Leora was able to come on such short notice.”

 

“This does not reassure me.”

 

Coulson ran some quick numbers, “40, not counting those with you aboard the quinjet.”

 

“Grigori, Tatiana, the Irkutsk branch, and the Roma could not make it so fast, but said they’d be here next week.  Nika will arrive tomorrow. Uncle Doom disinclined the invitation on the grounds that Buttface Reed would assume villainy and interrupt the party. He sent gift baskets instead.” Warren said, helpfully.

 

“The Grandparents are here, all seven of them. And Kaydee called  three minutes ago to say that your Royal parents have come from Asgard and will be here within an hour. Also, Xavier, Jean and Logan brought the kids down so they could attend, and brought a...friend with them. Ciara invited him specifically, though I have no idea how they even know each other.”

 

“Bugger.”

 

“Which friend?” Bucky asked. 

 

Instead of answering, Coulson simply handed him a file. Tony, peering over Bucky’s shoulder, blanched.   
  
“Jarvis? Did you hide all gambling games? I don’t want to lose another seven mil in one game with Remy, again.”

 

“Yes, Sir. He laughed and said he was not here to work, today, though he’ll be happy to take your money at a poker table another time.”   
  
Little paused suddenly, and squeaked happily, “Remy’s here?”

 

“What?” but Little was already running down the stairs, too excited to wait on the elevator. Jarvis took advantage of the momentary quiet.

 

“Agent Peace? Agent Harrow-Friggasdatter is unable to find a lighter and requests your presence.”

 

Warren lit one hand on fire and rolled his eyes as he made an exasperated hand gesture. “Work work work.”

 

***

 

“REMY! RemyRemyRemy! Reeeeemmmyyyyy!”    
  
Little moved through the throng of relatives like a bolt of lightning, unerringly aimed at LeBeau. She leapt the last four feet, clearing the overloaded table of food and landing squarely in Remy’s arms. He crowed as he spun her around.

 

“Mon Cher! Remy heard dat you be’n inta space. Na, dat cain’t be raht, Cher knows beddah den to run off ‘lone. Ah Ah, don’ gi’ Remy dat bahbin, Remy likes dis bit a sass too much ta no’ be remahndin’ ‘er ov safety.”

 

“But Remy! I wasn’t alone!”

 

Remy twinkled, clearly knowing full well exactly what happened to get Little into space.

 

“Oh ho! An who did Cher hev wid ‘er den? Hm?”

 

“Pabbi an the twins an Gun an then Peter an Yondu an…”   
  
“An did your Pabbi knowed you woz wid ‘im?” Remy asked knowingly.

 

“No, he did not,” Darcy said as she and the others stepped into the room from the elevator, and the twins ran past to greet their mother sitting nearby. “CAREFUL, boys!”

 

The warning came at the same time Ciara yelped in pain.

 

“MAMA!”

“What  _ happened? _ ”

 

Darcy sighed and turned from Ciara explaining viscerally why snowboarding off of roofs to escape bad guys is a poor idea, particularly while said roofs are exploding. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be doing it themselves any time soon. Shaking her head, Darcy redirected her attention.

 

“Messieur LeBeau-”

 

“Remy, please.”

 

“Remy. I’ve heard much about you. Mostly from Tony on the elevator down. How do you know Little and Ciara?”   
  


“Ciara, Remy knows through Bebette heah. Bebette…” he paused and figitted for a moment, When Little figitted back, Darcy had some inkling they were communicating, but how Little understood what was clearly a visual language … who knew?

 

Finally, Remy nodded, “Remy runs de smugglin ov supplies in t’ de Jachkt, an de smugglin of Jachkt out.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avengers tower is 93 stories tall, where the metlife building is, metlife is 57 stories and 808 feet. which multiplication puts avengers at 1276.7.
> 
> _“40, not counting those with you aboard the quinjet.”_ RED (5people), Peggy, Warren, Sharon, Shikoba, Leora, Xavier, Jean, Logan, Remy, Theta(4), Roy and Barra, Maya, Skye, FitzSimmons(2), Katenka, Ciara, Harley, Sandra, Zoe, Sam, Betty, Bruce, Clint, Thor, Jane, Pepper, Coulson, May, Magenta, Nick.
> 
> _Warren lit one hand on fire and rolled his eyes as he made an exasperated hand gesture. “Work work work.”_  
>  Nebula may or may not be eying him appreciatively for the rest of the day
> 
> _bahbin_ noun: pout, the facial expression
> 
> Louisiana drawl is fuckin HARD to write.
> 
> We'll get into detailed descriptions of the Jachkt and what THEY are soon, That's trigger territory though, so brace yourselves.


	7. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party begins. Some people have an idea what manners are, some haven't the foggiest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of fun and fluff before the drama and ANGST begin. Also, Rules are explored a bit more, and crazy people abound.
> 
> (No love-fest this chapter because ya'll haven' had ha'f a chance to read the last one yet.)

Peggy looked up from the coffee she was enjoying with Frank and Victoria while Marvin had adorable fits at Jarvis, to see a hard, active man in a wheelchair, looking quite uncomfortable with navigating the crowds.

 

“Pardon me, duty calls,” she said to Victoria and tilted her head just a hair towards the newcomer.  “Tell me all about Marvin’s discovery of secretive AI when I get back.”

 

“Of course, darling,” Victoria laughed.

 

Peggy stood and took a carefully circuitous route towards her target.  Based on the skin and the red fin coming up from his scalp, this was Yondu.  He raised Peter, which made him a formidable man, one who wouldn’t take direct mention of his chair well.

 

“Has Darcy shared the bacon-wrapped mushrooms with you yet?  They’re not kosher, so they aren’t right out on the buffet, but as long as you don’t mind pork, they’re quite delicious.”

 

“‘M a merc an’ a thief, ma’am, the particulars of food don’ genr’lly bother me. Would you lead th’ way?”

 

Peggy smiled and took the most direct route, her single raised brow silently telling people to move the hell out of the way. The kitchen was gloriously empty of all but Steve, who was loading a plate with pork-laden food to scarf for the extra fats. 

 

“Steven.”

 

“Peggy!”  The good captain still managed to look like a toddler caught in the cookie jar with his mouth half-full of appetizers.  “Uh…”

 

“Steve, oh my goodness,” Peggy laughed.  “Go on, get out there and dance with your girl, I won’t tell anyone.”

 

He licked his fingers, nodded to both and hurried out to whatever chaos his spouses were planning today, leaving the room to just the two of them.

 

Yondu stood shakily and used the counters to navigate the room, getting down a plate and loading it up with bacon mushrooms, sauteed spinach with bacon, and cheese-stuffed sausages, before sitting back in his chair, weary and out of breath. Peggy waited patiently for him to catch his breath, quietly filling her own plate. Giving him a moment more, Peggy turned to the nearest camera, in her experience Jarvises -- AI or human -- appreciated eye contact as much as any person.   
  
“Jarvis?”   
  


“Yes, Mrs. Jones?”

 

“Do you need help with Marvin?”

 

“No, thank you, Mrs. Jones. Mr. Boggs has ample reason to mistrust unnecessary oversight, and I find I am quite enjoying my verbal sparring with him. I do believe he is enjoying it as well.”

 

“Very well, then, carry on.”

 

Yondu seized the conversational opportunity, “Boggs?”

 

“Marvin Boggs. He is a retired spy and assassin who… well lets just say the government ran insane experiments on him secretly. He’s a little…. Odd. Not quite right in the head but often not wrong either.”

 

“I’ve got a few like that,” Yondu said, nodding wistfully.  “I’m like that myself. Might could be it’s a captain’s thing, most good ‘uns are a bit not normal.”

 

“The experiments involved dosing him daily with hallucinogenic drugs for 17 years. He is  surprisingly functional. And, unsurprisingly, quite mad. The more so when he’s actually right.”

 

Yondu laughed. “Had more’n a few of  _ those _ over the years, too.”

 

***

  
There were several large rooms, all filled with people, food, noise, and talking. Peter dove right in, knowing most of these people at least from stories, Yondu was pulled off by an elderly lady who oozed competency and danger despite her age, and Drax got pulled into a conversation with a woman as dangerous and blunt as he was. Rocket was off chasing Groot and children with the aid of a young woman who turned into a small furry mammal capable of getting into spaces even Groot was beginning to have trouble with, leaving the three women standing at the entry with no idea what to do with themselves. None of them had ever had a reason to be at a gathering like this one, where they were expected to be involved and part of a crowd rather than moving through it. 

 

All three just about seized up when two people, a man with dark brown skin and humor in his eyes and a thin, ivory skinned woman with long red hair, began purposefully approaching them from across the room. The woman’s icy green eyes trailed across them intently as they came, and Gamora’s skin shivered, while Linh-Anh shuddered and stepped back, slightly behind Gamora. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes warmed and she smiled softly at the three.

 

“Sorry for the scan, I know it can be unnerving,” the woman said in perfect, unaccented Basic, the same as a station trader might use.

 

“Jeanie, we talked about the suddenly learning people’s languages thing,” the man said with an eye-roll.  “I apologize for Dr. Grey, I have no idea how someone so smart with brains is so stupid with social skills.  Sam Wilson, the Falcon.”

 

Linh-Anh tilted her head to the side, “You do not  _ look _ like a bird. You look like a Terran.”

 

“Oh, yeah.”  He laughed, a musical sound.  “Most of the people here have at least one code name or callsign.  Mine is Falcon, because I fly with a Falcon EXO-7 flightpack when I’m on mission with the Avengers.  And Black Widow, who is neither black, nor a widow, nor a spider, asked me to come snag the two new gals for a meeting of the galaxy’s best assassins club.”

 

Linh-Anh poked Gamora’s shoulder. “What’s a code name?” she whispered, “Do I need one?”

 

“No, but maybe Nebula and I should consider it, if we ever work outside again,” Gamora assured her. She turned back to Sam Wilson, “And what of Linh-Anh while we are at this….meeting? I would not leave her without…”

 

“Support?” Jean suggested. “All is well. I am here to take her to meet with my colleague, myself, and Peter.”

 

“And I’ll be joining them as soon as I drop you two off with Bucky, Natasha, and their friends.”

 

Gamora turned so she could meet both of her sisters’ eyes. Satisfied with Linh-Anh’s curiosity and Nebula’s determination, she turned back and nodded. “Very well. Where would you have us go?”

 

Sam’s smile grew somehow brighter. “Y’all are going to LOVE assassin club,” He motioned for them to follow him, continuing,  “It was started by the venerable Victoria. No last name, because she’s hardcore like that. Frank stumbled in sort of accidentally, I don’t think he was an assassin.”

 

“Not technically. I’m mostly just a spy, but the two are rather intertwined,” said a friendly-seeming bald man holding a younger woman on his lap.  “Boggs, stop baiting the AI and come say hello to the aliens.”

 

“Frank, you shouldn’t tease him like that,” said the young woman, standing to offer a hand in greeting.  “I’m Sarah Moses, Frank’s wife. This is Marvin, if he likes you, he may make you bombs and tasers.”

 

“Hullo,” said the man she waved at.  “You don’t want to probe me, do you?”

 

Gamora hesitated, unsure what the protocol was for that question, but Nebula gagged loudly beside her and Marvin visibly relaxed.

 

“This is Ivan and Victoria,” Sam Wilson said, picking up the thread smoothly.  The pair smiled and Gamora thought of a long-buried memory of her own parents. They’d be much like these two now, she thought.  “And I think you already met Bucky and Nat on the way in.”

 

“They did,” Bucky said, clapping Sam on the arm.  “Go tell Clint to free himself from the grill when he can to come talk longshots with us, would you?”

 

“I ain’t your message boy,” Sam snapped back playfully.  “But as it happens, I want a burger. Have fun.”

 

Bucky waved at a counter rather covered with food along one wall, “Have you two eaten yet, or have you been standing awkwardly by the elevator the whole time?”

 

He watched them glance at each other and sighed, “Get food, then find a comfortable place to sit and join us.” He sighed again as Nebula poked, sniffed, and otherwise questioned everything at the buffet before taking anything, and then only taking one each from only the platters that were clearly most taken from. Gamora took the hint and nudged her sister.

 

“Rule two,” she reminded her, taking one of everything to try. Nebula sighed and went back to get things from other platters, including a brown wedge that smelled good but like it had no nutritional value.

 

Plates full, they joined the group on the couches….Well, Gamora did. Nebula stood awkwardly in the corner, eating where she stood, and eyeing everyone around her. The one called Marvin Boggs smiled,  _ this  _ he understood. Taking his own, hardly touched plate, he snagged two stools, setting one in front of Nebula before sitting beside her, but with his back slightly turned to her. Nebula paused in eating mechanically and studied him and the stool before sitting and relaxing slightly, suddenly enjoying her food much more.

 

***

 

Family barbeques had gotten much bigger since the first few in New York.  The sheer number of children had gone up, for one thing, and the chaos causible by said children now required specialized babysitting care, even when their respective parents were available.  Hence Agent Magenta May hauling out a giant bag of play supplies and commandeering the Asym-War Gym for a game of tag.

 

“I wanna play hide an’ seek,” Colin said as she fastened the belt of streamers to his hips.  

 

“Harley always wins tag, it’s not fair.”

 

“Harley isn’t It this time, because we agreed it wasn’t fair after his growth spurt last time,” Magenta said firmly.  “And you, little man, are not allowed to hide anywhere for the foreseeable future.”

 

“Because if you’re not willing to listen to the rules about hiding on spaceships,” Zoe chimed in, placing her hands on her hips, “we can’t trust you not to hide out of bounds.  If everyone is willing to agree on and follow rules, the game is fun, if someone tends to break rules, it stops being fun. We trust you to play tag right, but we want to see some proof you won’t hide dangerous places before we play hiding games with you.”

 

“Zooooooe.”

 

“She’s right,” Harley said firmly, settling his own streamer belt.  “Because we care about you sprockets, but you’re worse than micro-screws for vanishing.”

 

“If you don’t want to play, you can go hang out with the adult of your choice,” Magenta told them.

 

“I want to go talk to Lady Grey and Siedmadr Xavier,” Gun said.  “But that means I cannot also be ‘It’ this turn.”

 

Magenta looked at the kids, trying to math out the best alternate for Gun’s turn.  Suddenly, a smaller furry body collided with her legs and climbed to her hip before stopping.

 

“Nebula is smiling and it’s scary,” he said rapidly after she squawked a bit.  “You smelled… like home? And Groot’s barely a sapling, climbing him don’t get me high enough.”

 

“Understood, but I’m not a tree,” Magenta said.  “You want to play tag with us to stay away from Nebula?”

 

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Rocket dropped to the floor and dusted his paws off.  “What’cha doing here?”

 

“Tag,” Magenta repeated.  “It’s a chase game. One player runs after the others and tries to snag the streamers off their belts.  Five streamers means you can switch roles. The boundary is the yellow foam line at the edge of this section, but all the climbing gear in this corner is okay, just don’t cross out of this quarter.”

 

“I don’t like being chased,” Rocket said quietly.

 

“Good, we need a new chaser,” Magenta returned, “You wanna give the start count?  We use ten to give some distance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magenta smells like "home" to Rocket because her guinea pig form smells like the peculiar mix of sapiens, animals, and SCIENCE that pervaded Halfworld. 
> 
> Nebula wouldn't be comfortable sitting in the middle of the room as the others do, but she's also not comfortable standing and eating next to the wall and separate from everyone. Boggs sitting with her says she's not alone, while letting her be comfortable in seeing all potential threats, turning his back a bit says he trusts her, which means she can trust him. Boggs is cray-cray, but he's SMART and a genuinely good man.


	8. Trauma 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some crack, but a looooot of trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before we get into triggers-from-hell territory, we needed to get some things dealt with first... which means there's some trauma and angst in this chapter too....
> 
> Over the course of the next 24 hours or so, chapters up through 11, possibly 12 will be going up. feel free to read this one on it's own, but please wait for 11 to be up before reading chapter 9. chapter 12 is the return of crack.
> 
>  
> 
> _Italics denote telepathic conversation_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Love-Fest:  
> Wynni, Joey99, Tsita, critterlady, Crystallea1321, Shadows_of_Shemai, Selene_Aduial, Readertee, willowfire, geeky_monkey, quadrad, and the 2 new kudoers.

Ciara looked over the party she had organized from her throne (the comfy chair with the GOOD foot rest for her broken leg) and smiled. It was going inordinately well, all things considered, despite the lack of chaos gods to enliven it.

 

The blue space assassin was in the early stages of a love affair with Clint’s Devil’s Food Cake, and, really, who could blame her?

Darcy and her aunt circumnavigated in opposing directions, checking in with everyone. 

The Theta girls were doing handstands on the upper loft’s railing, to Bucky’s relief, as Coulson had talked them out of doing it on the outside balcony railing. 

Barra, newly arrived and trying to make up for time lost, was waiting on her, hand and foot, and she wasn’t about to stop him. The man was ridiculous but she enjoyed it anyways. 

His brother, Roy, was drinking with Thor and laughingly arm wrestling, Thor was ecstatic that a midgardian could provide any sort of challenge. Both were raucous, fully half of the total noise volume indoors. 

Another third of the noise came from the small gathering around where Logan, Remy, and Steve had somehow gotten themselves into an eating contest by accident. There were bets. Ciara was fairly certain Zoe would be taking the pot. She and Nat had coached the girl well.

 

Ciara laughed as Warren neatly sidestepped the twins, picking Shikoba up and setting them  down out of the way as he did so.

Her laughter was interrupted by hands in her hair, knowing Barra was still getting her coffee,  she reached up to feel the bony wrist. Ah. Robin. A moment later, Goodfellow was off making Thor’s hair stand up like viking horns and she pulled out her phone to take a selfie to see his work. She smiled at her image, Robin was a fantastic hair stylist when he chose to be, her hair was up in dozens of spiraled braids coiled upon each other and decorated with lifelike, 2 inch in diameter, deep azure lilies and indigo and violet irises made of some kind of gemstone and gold. Looking down she found he’d also signed the cast on her leg. She chortled to find golden elvish script wrapped about the ankle, “One cast to rule them all.”

 

She laughed harder when Nick passed her on his way to join Peggy and Yondu in the kitchen, wearing a particularly fabulous 18th century French wig, complete with birdcage.

 

***

 

Xavier looked up from his tea as Steve slowed while walking by and nodded.

 

“Peter,” He began as Jean nodded and left, “while we wait for Jean to get her and return, why don’t you tell me about Linh-Anh?”   
  
“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. She was an orphan that my father picked up and raised in total seclusion for the sole purpose of using her Empathy in maintaining his emotional stability and helping him sleep.”

 

“He never even named her,” Gun put in, disgustedly.

 

Peter nodded, “Up until this morning, her name was Mantis, we discovered a few days ago that her species are called Mantids. Once we got her to understand how that wasn’t right, Gamora challenged her to name herself, she spent the last few days researching names and came up with Linh-Anh herself. We’re actually very proud of her.”

 

Gun grinned, “She’s still learning how to be her own person, but she doesn’t stop trying.”

 

“That is much to be proud of,” Xavier smiled kindly.

 

***

 

Linh-Anh was confused by much of the universe, especially people, but was generally at peace with not knowing. She knew she  _ would _ know, eventually, when she needed to, and so did not trouble herself with details she did not yet understand. She knew intrinsically that this was a sharp contrast to the woman next to her, who knew much but was irritated daily by what she did not know. She watched the woman who was watching her with curiosity marred by caution and came to a conclusion. Half of her peace and half of Dr. Grey’s knowledge would make for a wise person, indeed. She could not give herself Jean’s knowledge, but she could give Jean her peace. As they headed to the buffet to gather food before going to meet Peter and the woman’s colleague, she reached out and rested her hand lightly on Dr. Grey’s.

 

And hit a wall. Hard. 

 

Confused, she looked up at Dr. Grey’s face, only to have her confusion increase tenfold. Jean was furious.

“Why?”   
  
“What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?”

 

Linh-Anh didn’t understand. “I don’t… This One was just…” her eyes began to tear up. “I don’t understand.”

 

Ruthless, Jean seized Linh-Anh’s mind looking for answers. Linh-Anh grabbed the contact, trying to understand. Why? Why was Jean angry? Why did she reject her help? She was just doing her job, being useful, fixing things. Why?  

 

The two spiraled around each other in their questions for a long moment until Jean shoved a feeling at her, a feeling of violation.

 

_ Do you understand THIS?  _ Jean asked harshly.

 

_ Yes, This One knows this feeling. Ego said it was my weakness trying to prevent me from being useful. But why do you feel it when This One gave you peace? It was not you that was needing to be useful… _

 

Jean stopped, shuddered, thinking hard. Nothing made sense, except what made horrible, grotesque sense.

_...Let me read you. I will let you read me when I am done. I think I know what happened. _

 

Instead of an answer, questioning, or even hesitation, what Jean got was, eeuuugh,  **everything** .

 

***

 

Sam’s burger was halfway between plate and mouth when he saw Linh-Anh reach towards Jean. It was on the floor when Linh-Anh was suddenly crying and Jean was sitting blank-faced three feet away.

 

“Jesus, what happened?” he asked, putting the plate to the side.  Someone took it and settled it… somewhere. The family had seen enough trauma that Sam going into responder-mode got a specific and useful reaction.  “Jean, talk to me. What are we dealing with?”

 

“I… can’t.”  Jean was shaking, so Sam pulled her into a hug.  Someone passed him a microfiber blanket and he tucked it around her as she started to pull herself back together. Linh-Anh was still sniffling, but Drax had gotten behind her to act like a living seat-back, crooning what might be a lullaby.

 

“Are you having trouble wording?” Sam asked Jean gently.  She nodded. “Okay, if you want I’ll drop shields and you can just show me where it hurts.”

 

She did.

 

Sam sat back on his heels.  “Okay. So, you went poking in someone’s head without asking and stepped on a bear trap.  That’s not fun.”

 

Jean sent him a wave of Object-Used-UnPerson-Violation-WhatEvenIsNo-Fear-Regret-GuiltGuiltGuilt.

 

“Yeah, we’ve been telling you to quit that.”

 

Bad-Wrong-Evil-Guilty-Evil-Rapist-Bad.

 

“I mean, that’s maybe a bit far, Jean.  Yes, we worry you don’t take the informed part of informed consent as seriously as you should, but to use the metaphor you established, you’re more of a casual subway groper than a rapist.”

 

Eww-Wrong-Bad-Slimy.

 

“Well, why did you think we told you not to do that?”

 

Flatscans-NotUnderstand-Uptight-HateMutants-Repression.

 

“Jean, the last person to tell you not to do that before I scolded you five minutes ago was a mutant.  It’s not a prejudice thing, it’s a ‘please don’t rifle through my underwear drawer’ thing. But that’s not as important right now as figuring out what to do with  _ this _ situation.  You messed up.  You know the next step.”

 

“She can’t accept an apology for something she sees as my right,” Jean said, her voice tiny and trembling.  “She does, under the mimicry, she thinks she’s an… I’m gonna throw up.”

 

Sam shoved a wastebasket at her from a helpful pair of hands.  He held her hair and Jean dry-heaved for a minute. “Better now?”

 

“Ye-eah,” Jean hiccuped.  “I guess… community reparations?  Since one-on-one isn’t really viable until some of the damage is fixed.  How do I even start adjudication for something like this?”

 

“You remember who all’s told you to stop it?”  Jean nodded. “Start there. And until Linh-Anh knows why it’s wrong to let people go running around in her head without asking, keep her safe from that.”

 

“I-I can do that. Yes.”

 

Meanwhile, Xavier was doing passive scans of Jean and Linh-Anh, assessing damages and causes. “Samuel, may I have a word please?”

 

Sam nodded but made no move, “Go ahead.”   
  
_ I think you should lead a small team to repair Linh-Anh. I will help Jean, there will be nightmares, and she will need a comfortable space for that. Linh-Anh will be better handled by you, I think. In addition to what Jean showed you, the girl has been isolated entirely, she will need help with social skills. _

 

_ Girl?  _  Sam asked.

 

_ Her people age slowly, like the Aesir though not as extreme. She looks adult but is, as far as her powers and mind are concerned, a teenager. _ Xavier explained.

 

_ Got it. Well, that makes some things easier. _

 

_ It does, doesn’t it? _

 

***

 

When Jean and Linh-Anh began giggling at the ridiculous hairstyles walking about, Sam knew it was safe to leave them for the moment. He couldn’t help a chuckle of his own at Thor’s Horns of Hair with dangling, beaded braids, nor the stifled snicker when Director Fury stuck his french-wigged head out of the kitchen to check the status of the party.  As he gathered his team to talk to them about helping Linh-Anh, he looked back over and cackled. Puck was in the middle of giving a laughing Jean full on Sailor Moon pigtails. Linh-Anh’s hair was lavender and bubble-gum pink and coiffed in excessively extravagant victory swirls, standing near a foot above her head. As he watched, Puck ran a finger carefully down Linh-Anh’s cheek and she promptly exploded into mirthful, jubilant giggles. He smiled and snagged his three from the huddle of scientists arguing in equations as Coulson and Pepper struggled to keep them from running off to the labs to prove their side of whatever they debated.

 

***

 

“That’s basically it,” Sam finished to his stunned, silent audience. “No one of us on this planet can handle this mess on our own, I need a team.”

 

“Okay,” Jane started slowly, “I can see that. But what do you want us to do?”

 

Sam smiled, Jane’s was the easy job to explain, “She has no knowledge of social norms and rules. Someone needs to guide her through that who’s not so native to it that they can’t explain it. That’s you, Janey. None of us can explain half as well as you can.”

 

Betty nodded thoughtfully, “And you want me to handle the Asshat Of the Year, Mass Murdering Father angle.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Both Betty and Jane were nodding now.  Bruce, however, was confused, “Okay, and me?”

 

Sam paused, this was the difficult one. “You’re the key, Bruce. Her childhood may actually have been worse than yours, but you get it. You also have navigated the murky waters of being more than what people think you are, and figuring out your identity beyond what your father tried to make you into. Lastly, I want Hulk to play with her. She didn’t get to play, at all, and Hulk is more her speed than the quadrangle of terror.”

 

***

 

Odin and Frigga arrived without much fanfare, greeting their three present children gladly before turning eyes, simultaneously both doting and scolding, on their wayward grandchildren. They, to the children’s surprise, didn’t scold much, for Heimdall had kept the updated on the adventures in space, so they had never needed to worry nearly as much as the other adults, though the report on the space pirates had quite set them on edge, prompting Frigga to hire for them the best magic tutors and combat trainers in the realms.  Charles Xavier chuckled in Frigga’s mind.  _ Find me later, Your Majesty, we have much in common, I think.  _

  
Frigga smiled, sending the children off to play some more under the hawklike watch of the adults surrounding them, dragged her spouse to find that-sweet-boy-Peter to thank him and his comrades properly for taking such good care of their grandbabies. The happy conversation quickly turned sour in Odin’s mouth as he considered this Ego-monster and the qualities he shared with the Celestial Brain.   
  


Frowning, he told the surprisingly sweet and moral children of the monster, “You have given me much to think on. Please, excuse me for a moment.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode to the farthest edge of the balcony to stare out at the city of his daughters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciara's bit is more over-arching timeline wise, and, at least at all the parties I've been to, most people tend to wander from group to group, activity to activity. So, if it seems like character duplication is going on.... that's why.
> 
>  _"...some things easier."_ : Due to adolescent brains being in the midst of the second-largest and last growth/change span in their lives, some psychological issues are easier to repair if they begin repairing before adolescence ends.
> 
> Note From Bairn on Shikoba:  
> Shikoba is a nonbinary agent of SHIELD, and a genderqueer genetic chimera (fraternal twins merged in the womb) who identifies as a two-spirit thanks to her Apache/Choctaw heritage. At work Shikoba uses the female pronouns assigned at birth because She is the one who was hired to be an agent (and also paperwork is of the devil) but among family occasionally uses the gender neutral/plural pronouns them/they to acknowledge the non-visible brother who was absorbed in the womb. Shikoba does not mind being called "she" by outsiders who are guessing, or by Suri, the entirely lesbian forensic accountant she's dating, but doesn't want her brother or her culture's place for them forgotten.


	9. Jachkt (or: Questions)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked. No one enjoys the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION: HERE BEGINS THE PULLING OF ALL TRIGGERS. 
> 
> Lovefest:  
> willowfire, oiseaudemort, geeky_monkey, Tsita, Shadows_of_Shemai
> 
> Remember to hold off reading until at least chapter 11 is posted. 12 if you need some candy after this. You'll understand why soon.
> 
> ADDITIONAL WARNINGS IN COMMENTS: If you don't believe the authors, believe the readers. The next two chapters are triggery as fuck and even if you like darkfic you may be disturbed. If you have any triggers whatsoever or hate the SAW films on general principal, you want to skip to 11 at the LEAST. If you want to skip both, assume it's very very bad and that'll be enough. Be mindful of your mental health my dear ones, and curate your media experience responsibly.  
> Love, Bairn

Ciara waved Barra away  as she saw Yondu determinedly steering over to Remy and crutched herself over to them as Darcy, Bucky and Gamora followed. Knowing they had questions best not answered in the middle of a party, she rested a hand on Yondu’s shoulder. 

 

“There’s a conference room just down the hall to the left. Why don’t we go there to answer your questions?”

 

“I ain’t asked any questions,” Yondu protested.   
  
Ciara nodded, “But you  _ are _ going to. Let’s do it where we won’t be disturbed, nor disturb the party.”

 

Sighing, Yondu turned to follow the grim Darcy and Bucky down the hall, Gamora at his back, Ciara and Remy bringing up the rear.

 

Remy helped Ciara to a chair and closed the door. “You have questions, ask. I will answer what I can answer with honesty,” he said with careful enunciation, dropping his native accent to just the barest hint.

 

Yondu spoke first, grimacing, “How do they break 'em in when they first get them?”

 

Remy sighed deeply “They start with gang rapes by the guards for a day or three… strip them down and scrub them raw with cold water and strap them to a wall for the ‘Processing’ where they use laser hair removal basically eyebrows down so the slaves will be nice and smooth for the ‘after hours’ clients. As well as removing disquinishing marks; moles, birthmarks, old scars or tattoos. Then they throw the new slave into the pit naked and forget them, allowing the others teach them the rules and get them what little clothes they are allowed. A loincloth and sometimes assless chaps  for men, loincloth and a breastband for women… anymore and they get beaten.”    
  
"Wait... this is all secret aright? Nobody knows about it legally.. Cus Lady Darcy told me you ain't got no brothels here, sex trade was illegal. I would guess fight rings are too so..."   
  


Ciara answered this one, with a face like she’d eaten an unripe lemon, “Legally, no, but about a sixth of all male law enforcers utilize them. Not to mention judges and lawyers, politicians, medical professionals, businessmen and the like.”   
  
“What about the bodies? What happens to those? That many people going through that kinda grinder gotta show up somehow...” Yondu, Ciara decided, clearly knew a thing or two about slave rings.   
  
“There’s a standing order from the owners to incinerate the bodies, which they expect the slaves to follow. They don’t.  They incinerate fake bodies made of animal bones and inedible animal organs. Jachkt do stonework in their “free” time. Because the dead need tombs. They’ve built secret tunnels to secret crypts and tombs, the sarcophagi are carefully carved with names, details, the people Outside who might be missing them, the day they died, how, who, what. The Jachkt honor their dead the best way they can… by ensuring that their fate will be known and not erased by fire.”

  
Darcy leaned forward, ready to ask her own questions, “Who is feeding the people to the rings? Who is behind all this?”

 

Remy snorted, sadly, “….Who doesn’t? There’s capture teams that bring in homeless, street kids, people from malls and parks, even homes, pimps that bring their own stables in to increase profit, drug dealers that sell customers that haven’t paid, cops that take bribes and privileges for pinpointing low-risk targets, some Jachkt are military people listed as KIA or MIA officially, some captured, some handed over by comrades in arms, some by Asshole COs, even some kids sold into it by legal guardians.”   
  
Darcy nodded thoughtfully and moved on, “What’s the medical, food, and shelter situation like?”

 

Remy smirked slightly, “Ain’t aimin for the easy and short answers are ye? No medical care provided by the owners, they can get a new slave for cheaper. No time off for “feminine needs” like pregnancy either. Medical care is provided by what Jachkt had medic training before being picked up and those they’ve trained once in the rings. Including abortions: pregnancy kills in the rings. Herbal Birth Control, compounded and distributed by the medics, is obtained by smuggling it in, same as other medical supplies.”

  
“Herbal?” Bucky interrupted, “Isn’t that less effective?”   
  
Ciara nodded, answering, “Yes, but there isn’t a black market to buy the regular on, it’s only available through doctors. Antibiotics too. Painkillers they can get anywhere, but if it can’t be used to get high, it’s damned hard to get on the back channels.”   
  
Remy nodded and continued, “For shelter: everything is in underground tunnels, the Jachkt sleep in dark, damp barracks. No light, no blankets provided but what they can smuggle in and hide well. Food, the owners provide ½ cup of horsefeed, in some places it’s mostly chaff, plus a couple tablespoons of peanut butter for...exemplary performance.”

  
Gamora was clearly shocked. “Even Nebula and I got more than that from Thanos!”

  
“It is comparative to concentration camp food,” Ciara nodded, feeling like she was becoming a bobblehead, then added for the non-Terrans, “A couple generations ago some asshole tried to take over the world, and exterminate several sets of people he deemed ‘undesirables’, while getting some ‘use’ out of them. In concentration camps, those who weren’t able to be useful, or overflow populations were killed immediately, others were fed much like the rings’ owners feed the slaves while being worked to the bone, with the  _ intention _ of killing them off.”

  
“The Jachkt don’t usually actually eat so little,” Remy added. “They steal from the ‘clients’ left, right and center, filter the money through an NGO they made as a front, plus what legitimate donations they get from outsiders in the know, Remy uses some of the funds for supply smuggling, other funds go to buying safe houses. Local tribes donate whole hunting kills, the inedibles go to faking bodies in the incinerators, some churches donate food directly to the Jachkt in addition to their more ordinary food-bank activities, as do some restaurants, mostly immigrant-owned, and sending food that would be wasted otherwise.”

  
Darcy was thinking again, “Who is on the outside? Who are our allies and assets here?” **  
****  
** “A great many of… Inventory specialists,” Remy began cautiously, “some drug dealers who appreciate medical need and don’t appreciate the system, some politicians, certain military heads, the various indigenous tribes and Roma, some of the better Mafia heads… oh.  And Deadpool. He likes doing ‘voluntary ScumOfTheEarth cleanup.’”

 

Ciara glared at the table and muttered something about needing to respond faster, “Wade gets all the good ones. Stupid teleportation.”  
  
Bucky had been listening carefully but had held himself in reserve. Now, he asked his own questions, “Who are the major players on the Rings side of things? Who runs the show?”  
  
Remy wiggled a hand vaguely, “It’s sort of like major league sports, each ring is owned by one person or group, managed by another, then the slaves themselves have owners like ball players have agents. All the scumbags use the rings somewhere, from pimps and gangs to slimy businessmen to HYDRA, Ten Rings, & all the other Big Bads, to provide funding… and experiment subjects”  
  
Bucky blanched. He knew better than most what HYDRA’s experiment subjects dealt with. Darcy gripped his thigh and forged ahead to give him time with this revelation. “Who are leaders we can liaise with?”

 

“The Vaghdjachkt is the highest leader among the Jachkt, sort of like the President, the Pope, and the Secretaries of State and Defense all rolled into one, below her are the clan leaders and commanders- “ Remy cut off as his phone beeped at him. He pulled it out and read it briefly. “...Nevermind, seems they’re sending emissaries to us.” It beeped again. “…Now.”   
  
“When will they be here?” Darcy asked typing rapidly into a tablet to advise Jarvis of new protocols for the emissary of the Jachkt. 

 

“...They left the North Harlem ring half an hour ago, so…” Remy shrugged, “Soon?”   
  


Bucky cleared his throat, recovering. “What’s the rings’ schedules like?”

 

Ciara picked up answering where Remy had left off as he and Darcy prepared for the emissaries, “Fights run nightfall to 1:30 am, ‘Aftershow entertainment,’” she couched the words in air quotes, “1:30 to sunrise. Jachkt “free time” is taken up with attending to the wounded, stonework for the dead, training, teaching and learning everything they can across the board, some little sleep, and their two daily religious services.” She added, knowingly, “Mostly without much observation from the guards, as, to their knowledge, there’s no way out but the front door. The Jachkt prefer to let them keep their illusions.”

  
“What training?” Bucky asked, avoiding his sister-in-law’s smirk.    
  


She shrugged, “Whatever they can learn from the other Jachkt in their group, medics teach basic trauma medicine to everyone. There are secret mages and mutants that teach what they can. For fight training, well that depends on their level. Some come in with black belts or spec ops experience, some barely know the pointy end goes in the opponent. The Jachkt training methods are...unusual, but result in being able to fight cohesively regardless of light levels or sound levels. For the skill they train to, look to Little.  She’s too young to be ranked normally, but probably equates to rank six, maybe seven out of eight ranks. Scale up for adults. There are very few Rank 8 Combat Jachkt, though.”

 

“What languages do they speak?”   
  
“Jachkthdaghe is the only language they  _ all _ speak. The rings exist all over the world, the slaves pulled from every corner and sent to fight other slaves just about everywhere else. Literally every Terran language is spoken.”   
  
Gamora was curious, “How many languages can one planet have?”   
  
“Hundreds,” Ciara grimly replied.

  
Yondu was fidgeting, “Do any of y’all actually even have re-entry plans?  You can’t jus’ plop a slave-fighter down in a normal family and expect ‘em to recover.”

 

“Yes, and no. That’s the primary hold up on going to war. Plans are in place, but not set up. I know there isn’t anywhere near enough safe houses to hold them all, for example.”

  
“What traumas are we looking at, aside from the obvious. Like... I have...issues with Kree-brand cleaners for floors and stained clothes,  and with gold makeup dyes, from them preppin me for fights.”

 

Remy and Ciara looked at him in silence for a moment. Remy began, slowly, “...Common triggers include being underground, smells of damp and mildew, hearing the theme songs that are played as they enter the fight ring knowing they may have to kill a friend, cold showers, Irish Spring soap, which is about the cheapest body-cleaner there is. Traumas from extended periods without sufficient light, forced laser hair removal, repeated rape, necessary abortions, being forced to harm friends…. And that’s the simple, common stuff.”

  
Ciara looked at the camera in the corner of the room. She made a decision and, folding her hands, resigned herself to it. “Jarvis, do you have access to those hard drives I brought back with Little?”   
  
“Yes, Your Highness,” Jarvis said stiffly, he hated those hard drives and their contents. 

 

“Please pull up the video file labeled Albuquerque.”

 

“I’d rather not experience that video again, Your Highness.”

 

“...Can you start it and disconnect? Like we would press play and walk out of the room?”

 

“I’m afraid not.”

 

Ciara nodded, she’d seen the video herself and could hardly blame Jarvis’ reluctance. “Could you copy the file to our tablets without opening it yourself and then turn off your sensors in this room for the length of the video?”

 

There was a brief hint of static as Jarvis sighed in relief, “Yes, Ciara, I can do that. If you will turn to your tablets, please. If you want the original edit of the security video of the Albuquerque Incident, swipe left, If you would rather watch my own, slightly less horrific edit of the original security footage, swipe right.”   
  
_ To swipe left and read the gory, horrific, graphic, all-the-squick-ridden-triggers version of the video, go to chapter 10. To swipe right and read a much less graphic, still triggery and horrible, but less gory version, skip chapter 10 and go to chapter 11. If you are under 18, you had better damned well swipe right. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS is a person, and Ciara recognizes this. JARVIS experiences video files in a way different than humans do. Humans watch it, on a screen. There's a disconnect, a distance there. For JARVIS, the video is IN HIS BRAIN. It's the same as watching a memory in your nightmares. Therefore, Ciara doesn't want to torment him with what's coming any more than necessary.


	10. GUTS AND GORE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGERS OF DOOM. The unedited version of the video, suitable for xrated horror movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKIP THIS CHAPTER UNLESS YOU REALLY WANT EVERY TRIGGER PULLED.
> 
> GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE, VIOLENCE, TORTURE, MINDFUCKS, FORCED CANNIBALISM, FORCED AUTOSARCOPHAGI, DEATH, MURDER, MERCY KILLING, SUICIDE

Gamora fumbled a moment with the tablet, Terran tech being strange to her, but she managed to swipe left. Before long, she wished she’d chosen the other direction.   
  
The video opened with a man finishing chaining the last of seven women, some barely more than girls, to the steel table in the center of the room. He caressed her naked form with one hand, and drew a knife along it with the other, seeming to have forgotten the other six that were chained to the walls. When she whimpered at the long cut on her breast, he grinned and hit a button on a remote, starting what Gamora now saw were sex toys implanted in the other women, as the women did their best to pull away from the intrusions and vibrations and failed. He turned away from the woman on the table and surveyed the other six. Slowly he pulled something from the pocket of the pants he still wore, a small cube, with marks on its sides. He rolled the die on the stomach of the woman bleeding on the table and grinned, looking up to one of the other women, he pointed with the knife, “You’re first.”    
  
Picking up the remote in his off hand and his knife in the other, he moved around the table so the woman could see clearly what he was doing. Slowly, he turned one of six dials on the remote to his right, as he cut a slice off of the ribs of the woman on the table, her screams rang from Gamora’s ears to her gut. Slowly, he sauntered over to the panting woman on the wall, still turning the dial. He shoved the meat in the horrified woman’s mouth and turned the dial up to full as he held her mouth closed, dropping his pants as he did so. As her body seized * and she tried to scream around the bit of her friend in her mouth, he flipped a latch and the toy fell out of her as he thrust himself in.   
  
The video skipped and skipped again. Each time he was thrusting into another woman, holding her mouth closed. Each time, more of the woman in the middle was missing. Finally, with chunks of breast, labia, thigh and torso gone and her guts beginning to push through the holes, the center point seemed to be dead. Thinking it was over, Gamora breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
It wasn’t over.    
  
He rolled the die again. Twice. He turned both dials up, swaggering to one and cutting a chunk out of her breast before slapping the wound and grinningly heading to the second who was sweating, shaking, and had recently thrown up hideous pink bile.

 

She tried to turn her head away and closed her mouth. He laughed, forced her jaws open and shoved it in, rubbing it over her tongue as he turned both dials up to full, then stuck his fingers in her mouth and shoved it into her throat, forcing her to swallow or choke. She was weeping as she came on his dick and his cum spilled out of her.

 

Gamora lost her lunch when she realized the video didn’t end here. It kept going. So did he. The die rolled and rolled. Gamora would never be able to stomach watching anyone play gambling games again. Finally, He pulled up his pants, dropped some money on the dead woman and left. 

 

But the video didn’t stop. Two women, one with a haphazard construction of a metal arm, and a young man completely covered in knife scars below his neck came in, dressed in garb that resembled what Remy had described the Jachkt slaves wearing and speaking lowly. The young man moved from one woman to another, tending wounds and working what was clearly some magic involving a bit of his own blood to speed their healing as the women followed behind him moving to unchain the women.   
  
The first four stared blankly ahead, drooling down their chins, scarcely even blinking. They didn’t respond to the boy healing them, nor to the women. The first one, when unchained, fell limply to the floor and did not move. The women paused to speak quietly with each other.  With care and gentleness, they picked the fallen one up and leaned her gently against the wall so she wouldn’t fall over again, then moved on. For the next three, one held up the chained victim while the other unlocked the manacles, slowly lowering them to the ground to sit with the support of the walls. The fifth, at this point, was screaming at the young man, lashing out and trying to bite him. He couldn’t get near enough to treat her extensive wounds.

 

“ _ Move on, _ ” the woman with two flesh arms ordered firmly. “ _ You can’t help her if she won’t let you. Move on _ .”   
  
But the sixth woman appeared to be uninjured.

 

When they cautiously unchained her, she stumbled for the door, holding her mouth. The boy-man left briefly, coming back with another, slightly older. The second man looked at the women around him, stunned. Gingerly, he knelt and touched one of the catatonics...and screamed. The women wrestled him away from the girl on the floor, yet he kept screaming, despite all the medic could do. Finally, the medic put him to sleep and called for someone to take him to his bed. He looked doubtfully at the presiding women as they shooed him out after his new patient, but they had already turned to argue quietly with one another. The metal armed woman closed the door behind him and turned back to her companion, who was beginning to weep quietly. The first appeared to be pleading with the second, who had drawn a knife.    
  
Gamora watched in horror as the crying woman knelt in front of the first catatonic woman, gently brushed her hair aside, whispered to her, kissed her forehead, and slit her throat calmly, with a quick, sure stroke. And moved to the next. By the third, the feral one in the corner was watching intently. When the fourth died, she calmed, and some semblance of sanity returned to her eyes.   
  
“ _ They thank you,”  _  she said serenely,  _ “As do I. Bury me where I can see the stars, that I may join my ancestors in the heavens.” _

 

Bloody knife in hand she nodded, and kissed the young woman, scarcely more than a child, but hesitated. The girl lunged forward, snapping and growling, impaling her throat on the knife. The room was silent as the women sat defeated, surrounded by corpses. Soon, the silence was cut by a piercing scream, followed by shouting and wailing. They threw the door open to see what had happened, and a man carried a small body in, clearly having been eaten, as two more wrestled with the woman who’d stumbled out of the room. Picking up her knife from where she dropped it, the weeping woman strode forward and calmly slew the raving one. The wailing didn’t stop, as the men who had taken away the young man that surely was a telepath came back carrying him, he had slit his wrists rather than have the images in his head. Gamora watched the steel and ice mask fall into place on the weeping woman as she stood from one corpse to look at another.

 

_ “Bury them all with full honors, what was borne here today was worse than any battle, and took nine from us. Carry them carefully, and remember.” _

**  
** The arrival of the emissaries was a relief from the silence that followed the horror of the security video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a distinct difference between physical orgasms and mental ones. Provide enough stimulation to any area and the body contracts heavily around it. Not entirely unlike being electrocuted. It's not a true, pleasure-induced orgasm, but it _is_ difficult to tell the difference between the two, for either party...which, when a forced orgasm occurs during rape, causes an extra level of mental trauma, shame, and screaming.
> 
> The Fourth Woman is of Native American descent, wherein many of the faiths under that umbrella believe that those who are buried and/or die either face-down or where they can't see the stars to guide them Home, are doomed to wander the earth forever because they can't find heaven. YES, the Jachkt carved a hole from their secret tombs to the surface so she could see the stars. They have a particularly strong need to honor the dead and the faiths of others. They don't have many choices left to them, so honoring vehemently the choices that remain is VERY IMPORTANT.


	11. GUTS...with somewhat less gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slightly less horrific version of the video from hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is less obscenely graphic than the other alternative, but the warning still applies:  
> GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE, VIOLENCE, TORTURE, MINDFUCKS, FORCED CANNIBALISM, FORCED AUTOSARCOPHAGI, DEATH, MURDER, MERCY KILLING, SUICIDE. Caution is advised.

**  
** Darcy and Bucky rochambeau-ed to see who watched the full version and who watched Jarvis’ version. Darcy smiled slightly as she won and swiped firmly right. She watched as Yondu, just as certain, but just barely holding himself together did the same while Gamora and Bucky swiped left. Suddenly, she got up and moved, putting the four of them in closer proximity for solidarity. Settling in, she clicked the play button.

 

The video opened with a man finishing chaining the last of seven women, some barely more than girls, to the steel table in the center of the room. He caressed her naked form with one hand, and drew a knife along it with the other, seeming to have forgotten the other six that were chained to the walls. When she whimpered at the long cut on her breast, he grinned and hit a button on a remote, starting what appeared to be sex toys implanted in the other women, as the women did their best to pull away from the intrusions and vibrations and failed. He turned away from the woman on the table and surveyed the other six. Slowly he pulled something from the pocket of the pants he still wore, a single, six-sided die. He rolled the die on the stomach of the woman bleeding on the table and grinned, looking up to one of the other women, he pointed with the knife, “You’re first.” 

 

Darcy shuddered in horror  as the video shifted to a series of second-long snapshots. Watching the full version would be horrific as the snap shots of the man playing his grotesque dice game, pieces of the woman in the middle going missing as he raped the others, holding their mouths closed with a bloody hand and the dice rolled. The snapshots stopped as the man left money on the dead woman and left.

 

Darcy’s stomach roiled from the implications alone, and she leaned into Bucky, pale and shaking with rage and revulsion as his video played. If hers was bad, his was worse, and she knew it. Glancing around, she saw Gamora retching into the garbage bin as Yondu barely held himself together.    
  
She turned back to her video as two women, one with a haphazard construction of a metal arm, and a young man completely covered in knife scars below his neck came in, dressed in garb that resembled what Remy had described the Jachkt slaves wearing and speaking lowly. The young man moved from one woman to another, tending wounds and working what was clearly some magic involving a bit of his own blood to speed their healing as the women followed behind him moving to unchain the women.   
  
The first four stared blankly ahead, drooling down their chins, scarcely even blinking. They didn’t respond to the boy healing them, nor to the women. The first one, when unchained, fell limply to the floor and did not move. The women paused to speak quietly with each other.  With care and gentleness, they picked the fallen one up and leaned her gently against the wall so she wouldn’t fall over again, then moved on. For the next three, one held up the chained victim while the other unlocked the manacles, slowly lowering them to the ground to sit with the support of the walls. The fifth, at this point, was screaming at the young man, lashing out and trying to bite him. He couldn’t get near enough to treat her extensive wounds.

 

“ _ Move on _ ,” the woman with two flesh arms ordered firmly. “ _ You can’t help her if she won’t let you. Move on _ .”   
  
But the sixth woman appeared to be uninjured.

 

When they cautiously unchained her, she stumbled for the door, holding her mouth. The boy-man left briefly, coming back with another, slightly older. The second man looked at the women around him, stunned. Gingerly, he knelt and touched one of the catatonics...and screamed. The women wrestled him away from the girl on the floor, yet he kept screaming, despite all the medic could do. Finally, the medic put him to sleep and called for someone to take him to his bed. He looked doubtfully at the presiding women as they shooed him out after his new patient, but they had already turned to argue quietly with one another. The metal armed woman closed the door behind him and turned back to her companion, who was beginning to weep quietly. The first appeared to be pleading with the second, who had drawn a knife.    
  
Darcy watched in horror as the crying woman knelt in front of the first catatonic woman, gently brushed her hair aside, whispered to her, kissed her forehead, and slit her throat calmly, with a quick sure stroke. And moved to the next. By the third, the feral one in the corner was watching intently. When the fourth died, she calmed, and some semblance of sanity returned to her eyes.   
  
“ _ They thank you,”  _  she said serenely,  _ “As do I. Bury me where I can see the stars, that I may join my ancestors in the heavens.” _

 

Bloody knife in hand, she nodded and kissed the young woman, scarcely more than a child, but hesitated. The girl lunged forward, snapping and growling, impaling her throat on the knife. The room was silent as the women sat defeated, surrounded by corpses. Soon, the silence was cut by a piercing scream, followed by shouting and wailing. They threw the door open to see what had happened, and a man cared a small body in, clearly having been eaten, as two more wrestled with the woman who’d stumbled out of the room. Picking up her knife from where she dropped it, the weeping woman strode forward and calmly slew the raving one. The wailing didn’t stop, as the men who had taken away the young man that surely was a telepath came back carrying him, he had slit his wrists rather than have the images in his head. The steel and ice mask fell into place on the weeping woman as she stood from one corpse to look at another.

 

_ “Bury them all with full honors, what was borne here today was worse than any battle, and took nine from us. Carry them carefully, and remember.” _

  
The arrival of the emissaries was a relief from the silence that followed the horror of the security video.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a distinct difference between physical orgasms and mental ones. Provide enough stimulation to any area and the body contracts heavily around it. Not entirely unlike being electrocuted. It's not a true, pleasure-induced orgasm, but it _is_ difficult to tell the difference between the two, for either party...which, when a forced orgasm occurs during rape, causes an extra level of mental trauma, shame, and screaming.
> 
> The Fourth Woman is of Native American descent, wherein many of the faiths under that umbrella believe that those who are buried and/or die either face-down or where they can't see the stars to guide them Home, are doomed to wander the earth forever because they can't find heaven. YES, the Jachkt carved a hole from their secret tombs to the surface so she could see the stars. They have a particularly strong need to honor the dead and the faiths of others. They don't have many choices left to them, so honoring vehemently the choices that remain is VERY IMPORTANT.


	12. Something Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the party continues. Crack to lighten the load of the last few chapters, as an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. Have some crack. I'm soooooo sorry.

“Tony. What are you doing? There is a party going on upstairs and you are… what is that?” Pepper had her exasperated voice on. That meant she’d been trying to talk to him for a while. And she’d turned the music off. Oops. Tony looked up. She wasn’t mad yet, good.   
  
“What? I’m entertaining guests,” Tony motioned towards Rocket and the still dancing Groot, “And doing very important things, so can you turn the music back on please?”   
  
“What is so important that you have to miss the welcome back party?”   
  
“Pants.”   
  
“Pants?”   
  
“Pants.”   
  
“That doesn’t look like pants.”   
  
“ ‘ey, Tony, are you  _ sure _ we don’t want to put guns in these?”   
  
“ _ Tony. _ ” Ok, NOW she was nearing mad.   
  
“Yes. I’m sure. No guns,  _ or bombs,  _ built into The Pants. See, Pep? Working. With guests. Music, please, Jarvis.”

 

“I’m getting Darcy. And Peter,” Pepper hollered over the sound of Seether on the speakers.   
  
“You do that,”  Tony nodded, lighting his welder. “I have work to do.”   
  
***   
  
Nebula pouted at the empty platter that once held the brown wedges of… well, she suspected it might be happiness. She wasn’t sure. She needed to study it more. Which required more brown wedges. Of which there were none.

 

The NatMonster smiled at her from her plate of round white-ish things with the dusting of brown on top. “Clint’s baking is my favourite too.”

 

“Clint?”   
  
NatMonster gestured to the man in a purple apron approaching them. He looked up from his plate of meat cylinders in bread. 

 

“Wha-?” his question interrupted. By Nebula knocking him over and sitting on his chest. He had no idea how his plate of hot dogs was sitting perfectly fine on the floor. He wasn’t about to ask the dangerous woman glaring at him across a knife if she had saved his meat for him. It seemed unwise.   
  
“The brown wedges. They are gone. I require more.”

 

“....The - ? The devil’s food cake? Aw, I wanted some of that.”   
  
“I require more….devil’s food. You make it. Make more.”

 

“Nebulaaaa,” the green woman said, “That’s not how we ask people we like for things we want.”   
  
Nebula sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Gamora,” she returned her glare to Clint, “You. Make more. Please.”   
  
“Fortunately, I met Nat when she had difficulty asking for things. Can I eat my hot dogs first?”

 

The assassin considered it. “Eat fast.”

 

Good thing hot dog eating contests were a regular part of being a carnie, Clint could, in fact, swallow them whole.

 

***

 

Thor was still roaring with laughter as he slapped Roy’s back as the two walked out onto the balcony.    
  
“Father! This midgardian hath bested me in arm strength!”   
  
“A feat indeed,” Odin smiled, “And who is your friend, Thor?”

 

“Roy MacBain, brother to Barra MacBain, second of his clan, and uncle to the twins.”

 

“Oh,” Odin said knowingly, his eye twinkling, “Well that explains much, doesn’t it?”   
  
Roy laughed. “Aye, any mention of Barra’s Boys can us’ly explain jus’ abou’ anythin’.”

 

“Tell me, O, MacBain, is your clan one of those descended from Alfar?”   
  
“Aye, we are.”   
  
“And what is your clan inheritance from that?”

 

“We be druid soul-shifters.”

 

“What is that?”

 

“At a yoong age, we bahnd our souls to th’ soul o’ a creature we identify with, then we can take on aspects of that creature at need. Soom of the great ones of old could shift-aspect to several creatures. Barra an’ I ‘re wolf, as is much o’ our clan. Some are great cats, like our cousin Kiera. Some are foxes, who mostly take after Loki in attitudes. An’ there’s allus a few bears. We have yet to see which creatures the boys’ll tek.”

 

Odin laughed. Thor looked at him funny.  Roy slapped his new friend on the arm in a silent message that said more than words ever could.  Namely it said ‘I like you and wish you well, but not enough to involve myself in your family drama.’  Which Thor could respect. His family drama often came with a body count.   
  
“You are in high spirits, Father,” Thor said cautiously.  Odin was much improved for having opened his home and heart, however unwilling initially, but the days of his instability were still fresh in Thor’s mind, and he was all too aware Odin had not had the full benefits of the Odinsleep in far too long.  “You came out here looking troubled.”

 

“I was troubled, but I have come to a decision, which I think I shall quite enjoy.”

 

_ Oh, Norns _ , Thor thought, “And what decision did you come to?”

 

“I’m adopting again.”

 

Thor paused, counting in his head the way Loki had shown him to increase his patience and calm.  There was no fighting this, he reminded himself. “Who is my new sibling?”

 

“Siblings. If they’ll both have us. One of them has a father already and may not want to have two.”   
  
“Siblings, then.”

 

“Linh-Anh and her brother Peter.”

 

“Her brother?”  Thor blinked, he’d not seen a soul-kin bond, although that didn’t mean as much as it might.  Thor had never been the perceptive one, that was always Loki. Of course, barring soul-kin, there were other ways to be siblings….  “Father, they aren’t of the same species.”

 

“Yes, they are. They’re both half-Celestial.”

 

“Norns, I don’t think they know that, Father.”  Thor rubbed his face with a hand and wished silently for at least one decade where there were no awkward revelations about paternity.  “Best not surprise them with it too suddenly.”

 

“And not hide it from them either,” Odin finished for him.  The All-Father’s face had a strange, rueful look that made Thor uncomfortable.  Regret was not something he associated with Odin. “I know, I  _ did  _ learn from the destruction of the bifrost.”

 

“I’ll go get Mother and tell her that you have news, then?”

 

“If you would.”

 

“She’s going to have a pack of bilgesnipe.”

 

“She adopted two, why can’t I?”

 

Thor laughed and went back into the party.  Perhaps he should speak to his Lightning Sister about Odin’s strange behavior.

 

***

 

After shooing Yondu, Fury, and a delightedly laughing Peggy from the kitchen, Clint settled in to baking, letting the patterns soothe him into a meditative state.   
  
“Is it devil’s food yet?”

 

Except for that. Nebula hovered just at the kitchen door, staring intently at him as he got out the supplies and tools of his favorite trade. She’d asked three times if it was ready yet, and he hadn’t even added the liquid ingredients. Sighing, he set down his measuring cup and dusted his hands off. “Nope. Nothin doin. There’s some rules to being in the kitchen with me. First, you  _ help.  _ Come over here.” 

 

He reached into a drawer that seemed to be filled with a riot of colors. Rifling through it, hemming and hawing, he found one he wanted, and pulled out a vibrant orange, yellow, and black  piece of fabric and threw a loop of it over her head. She looked down at herself as he moved around to tie the straps at the sides behind her back . It appeared to be of a type with the purple one he was wearing, but instead of ruffles and frills, this one had four overlapping layers and clean lines, except for the colors, which made little sense to her but soothed her nonetheless.

 

“What is this?” she asked, hoping she sounded more fearsome than she thought she did.

 

“An apron. It’s to keep your clothes clean. Some people like simple, utilitarian ones. We prefer colors and styles that calm us or say something about us. That one is one of Nat’s, it’s modeled after a poisonous but beautiful insect called the Monarch Butterfly. It suits you as readily as it suits her. Bucky and I make them when we aren’t otherwise occupied. Now, are you ready?”

 

“For what?”

 

“To learn how to bake,” Clint grinned.

 

***

 

When Darcy came out of the conference room after the others, Odin was grinning, which was terrifying, Nebula was licking a bowl clean, wearing Nat’s Monarch apron, with flour everywhere as Nat looked on, grinning, which was terrifying, and Pepper was rushing over looking worried, which was terrifying.   
  
“I was gone for twenty minutes. What. Happened?”

 

Thor snickered, “We’re getting siblings again. Father’s adopting.”   
  
Nat smirked, “We’re getting siblings again, Clint’s adopting.”   
  
Pepper looked at them, looked at Darcy. “We’ve got trouble again, Tony’s adopting.”

 

Darcy took a deep breath and sighed. One thing at a time. “Who’s Papa Odin adopting?”

 

“Linh-Anh, who comes with a side order of Peter,” Thor grinned.

 

“Okay, that’s fine. Good even, it means he wants to do better, and they could use some better. Who is Clint adopting?”

 

“Nebula, who comes with a side order of Gamora,” Nat smiled, as she texted with Jarvis and pulled up videos of Nebula tackling Clint for more cake, whining at him as he baked, and managing to make an adorable mess of herself as she learned to bake Chocolate Lava Cake.   
  
“Okay, that’s adorable. I’m glad she’s found a big brother.” Good news bolstering her she took a deep breath and turned to Pepper, “Alright, who’s Tony adopting and why is it trouble?”

 

“Rocket, who comes with a side order of Groot. They escaped the party to go to the workshop. Won’t tell me what they’re working on, only that it’s ‘very important pants’. That Rocket wants to put guns and bombs into. Groot is carrying wrenches bigger than he is. That part is adorable, and I’m having Jarvis frame pictures for me….”

 

“But the rest is worrisome. Are any of the Scientist wranglers with them?”

 

“Nope. They locked them out, Jarvis let me in, but they’re….”   
  
“Being Tony and Rocket, who is, apparently, a smaller, furrier, version of Tony pre-Afghanistan.”

 

“Exactly. ONE I can handle,  _ two _ needs a team.”

 

Darcy sighed.   
  
“C’mon, Nat, Jarvis is recording your new baby sister for you, let’s go save the world from Important Exploding Pants.”

 

They were joined on the elevator by Yondu and Peggy. At Darcy’s inquiring look, Yondu shrugged, “Jarvis said to.” Darcy nodded silently, the concept of Tony making Very Important Pants starting to make sense.

 

***

 

Jason and Jacob were as in tune with one another as it is possible for two boys with no romantic attachment or blood relations to be. Walking through the crowds of New York to the base of the hideous, glowing monstrosity of Avengers Tower, this stood them in good stead, as it would have been impossible to have classified conversations otherwise. As it was, they only had to make eye contact to communicate their uncertainty to each other. The Kolg’djachkt had not specified how, exactly, they were to gain entrance to the vaunted halls of super heroes. 

 

Shrugging, Jason, by far the taller of the two, shoved through the crowd towards the elevator bank, Jacob following in his wake. Somehow they managed to snag one to themselves, the door closing silently with no one else getting on. Another silent conversation and matching shrugs later, Jacob hit the button for the top floor. 

 

There was a sound, barely audible, of something shutting off as the elevator sealed, and of Something Else coming online.

 

“Welcome to Avengers Tower.  Please state the name you wished to be addressed by for voice imprint.”

 

Shrugging, Jacob answered The Voice From Above, “Either Jacob or Cvand’eshk for myself.” He looked at his partner, who sighed.

 

“G’novlian.”

 

Jacob sighed and rolled his eyes. “He also responds to Jason. He’s in A Mood today.” He poked Jason’s ribs gently, “Diplomacy is a thing, brother-mine.”

 

“Thank you for your imprints, Sirs.  Where is your destination today?”

 

“We were sent for a meeting with the Avengers.” G’novlian said, somewhat tersely.   
  
“We were  _ not _ given instructions on where to go once inside the Tower,” Jacob added.

 

“Very well, Sirs.  One moment please.”

 

***

 

The music cut off suddenly while Tony was tightening the back brace of the Iron Pants and adjusting the sensors on Yondu’s spine.   
  
“Ms. Lewis, the Jachkt emissaries have arrived. They are...unusual.”

 

“How so, m’Dude?”

 

“...I believe they are adolescents, not yet 18, specifically. Where should I direct them?”

 

“Main conference room, the normal one, not the War Room.”  Darcy twisted a strand of hair in the way that indicated hesitation.  Jarvis noted that, and tracking the others, decided discretion was important here.

 

“Ms. Lewis… are you well?” he asked from a single, table-top speaker.  It was a more personal address, one he normally wouldn’t use with company in the Tower, but Darcy responded with a warm smile at his nearest camera.

 

“No, but I’ll survive.  These…  _ things _ , that hurt Little’s people?  They won’t. Then, I’ll be better.”

 

“Very good, Ma’am,” Jarvis said through his main speaker, and turned his mind back to the elevator.

 

***

 

Jarvis studied the boys in silence as he moved the elevator more slowly than he usually would. Analyzing their movements, their  elaborate coats, and the feedback from his biosensors, and comparing that data to the information Ciara and Little had given him about the Jachkt, he came to the conclusion that they were rather more unusual than they at first appeared. Their bearing, which would have been calm and collected on the average teenage male, screamed uncertainty when compared with his video files of Jachkt. Their leather coats proclaimed them both to be ranking leaders of their fields, despite their young age, and the colors used therein indicated contradictions that were at home with the contradictions of the Avengers: G’novlian, for example, had a preponderance of the Black of combat, with the particular knotting style that meant he preferred knives, while Medic Green wove through in the pattern that meant he was a senior healer, who used both traditional medicine and magic to heal. The flecks of Tactics Grey and the Red used by the priesthood looked like fire and ashes on forested hill by night, turning the otherwise calm colors of the coat into something subtly terrifying. By contrast, Jason’s coat was riotous, clashing Red of the priesthood and Blue of sciences mellowed by grey and black, turned from ideas at war with one another into something in balance.

 

They had angled themselves slightly, so that they could see more fully as a pair out the elevator doors when they opened, and kept surreptitiously fingering the hilts of their knives, but leaned slightly into each other as if for comfort. Both had injuries and callouses from fighting, but Jason also had callouses from a stringed instrument and damage to both of his arms indicating severe, repeated breaks.

 

Carefully, Jarvis slowed the elevator even further and sent his thoughts to the tablets and phones of Ms. Lewis, Agent Barnes, and Captain Rogers. They’d best know how to handle the conundrum these boys represented, and should be warned.

 

***

 

Bucky had just finished reading Jarvis’ text when a squeal of glee drew his attention to the elevator doors as Little dove through the gathered family to tackle the two surprised boys, knocking the hoods of their coats off. Putting his reservations about minors being emissaries aside, he paused to watch what was clearly a family reunion with growing fondness. G’novlian was a tall, well muscled brunette, who would have been quite handsome to even the staunchest critic were it not for the knife scars that lightly dotted his face, all well-healed over as he clearly hadn’t been injured in any fight recently. He moved freely, clearly relaxing in the little girl’s presence, but with a deadly precision that reminded Bucky of Nika. Cvand’eshk, by contrast, looked like a red-headed, tan version of 17 year old Steve, his movements alternated between explosive and utter stillness in a way that sent Bucky’s eyes to Clint, who, though not looking, was doing the exact same thing at the moment.

 

Jabbering in the harsh tongue of the Jachkt, Little pulled the laughing teens to the corner where the various instruments were kept; Clint’s piano, Sam’s drumkit, Little’s violin and contralirone, and two of Nat’s guitars crowded a small dias by the bar. Little began playing her new instrument for them, and the room quieted as people turned to listen. Nodding along quietly, the boys moved as one to the other instruments. G’novlian to the drum kit, where he fiddled with the stool for a moment to get it to the right height. Cvand’eshk picked up the fiddle. They listened intently for a moment, and joined Little on the chorus.

 

Bucky dropped his phone.

 

***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per the established canon for Bodies, Yondu counts as just straight up Peter's Dad in Asgardian.
> 
> Devil's Food Cake:  
> 1 2/3 c flour  
> 1 c sugar  
> 1/2 c brown sugar  
> 3 oz melted unsweetened chocolate  
> 1 1/2 tsp baking soda,  
> 1 tsp salt  
> 1 1/2 c buttermilk  
> 1/2 c butter, softened  
> 2 eggs  
> 1 tsp vanilla
> 
> (To make it chocolate lava cake, you basically just make devil's food and fill the center with fudge.)
> 
>  
> 
> Nebula's Apron is basically an apron version of this: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/32/58/30/325830de1023440b975dbee709c86fbc.jpg
> 
> The Pants shall hence-forth be known as VIPs. It Is Known.
> 
>  _Kolg’djachkt_ Commander, official right hand of the Vaghdjachkt and captain of Her bodyguard.  
>  _Vaghdjachkt_ literally "Survivor General" or "General of the Jachkt", the modern-day Spartacus
> 
>  _G’novlian was a tall, well muscled brunette,_ haven't found pics of the boys yet, but...brown eyed curly haired and slightly darker skinned version of Andy Black makes a good starting point. 1/4 Russian, 3/4 Middle Eastern, predominantly Israeli.
> 
>  _Cvand’eshk, by contrast, looked like a red-headed, tan version of 17 year old Steve,_ ...Mexican-Irish, scrawny.
> 
> Cvand'eshk and G'novlian are introduced as Jacob and Jason in https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104254


	13. Emissaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music, a very angry Bruce, and many things are unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Playlist of songs they may be playing: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQ_q062uGxhG97EiEZS8R8CKSSevsC_2M  
> Pick your favorites and run with it)
> 
> ___
> 
> I'm baaack. And so, sooo sorry. I hit a brick wall in Chapter 16 at the same time that I lost access to needed medical services and consequently spent the intervening months... uh, wallowing. I am applying a crowbar to my rear end, hoping I get enough leverage to get moving on this again.
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than I usually like doing, but it really needed to be separate. next few are more normal in length.
> 
> Love Fest:  
> Commenters:  
> quadrad, Selene_Aduial, willowfire, Joey99, Shadows_of_Shemai, Crystallea1321, Tsita, geeky_monkey, Addie_Lover_of_Stories, HellKat, SionnachOiche3, hhhellcat
> 
> And  
> StealingATimeLord, SUNicorn, Peramia, Musume_no_Suoh, randolly, MzSarahGrace, oiseaudemort, and some 5 guests who kudoed since I last posted.
> 
> Thank you. You guys provide the crowbar.

Nebula was… confused. She was….feeling things. The music the children played was both angry and hopeful in a way she’d never felt, she liked it but trying to figure it out was giving her a headache. How could someone be that angry, and that sad at the same time and still be… hopeful? Shaking her head to dispel the circling questions, she re-focused her attention on the oven, where Clint was pulling the small Devil’s Food cakes out, the brown filling he’d made and wouldn’t let her taste was ready to the side.

 

“NOW, can I eat it?”   


  
“No, NOW we turn them out of their pans onto plates, put the filling in the center and reheat them, and THEN they have to cool down to edible temperatures.”

 

“But I want it  _ now _ ,” she whined, willfully ignoring how childish she felt.

 

“But it’s not ready  _ now _ ,” Clint sassed back. Nebula grinned, she  _ liked _ Clint.

 

***

 

Bruce sidled over to Bucky, who was frowning intensely in thought at the stage. 

 

“The music is good,” he said, nudging his friend.

 

“Huh?” Bucky blinked at him.

 

“The music. It’s not something I would expect children to know and play so well, but definitely not something to frown over.”

 

“Oh. No, I like the music. I’m trying to figure out what to do about the boys.”

 

“Who are they?”

 

“Emissaries from Little’s...  _ People. _ Also, apparently, what served her for parental figures after she ran away from her bio-donor and before Ciara brought her home.”

 

“Emissaries? They seem a bit young…”

 

“They’re 17,” Bucky shrugged, “Adults by Jachkt reckoning, and leaders in their fields. But still, you’re right. Normally, they would be much too young. That’s the problem. The reasons they  _ aren’t  _ too young made Darcy and Gamora throw up. Jarvis can give you a transcript of the briefing, if you want. To summarise, take the worst aspects of Roman Gladiator rings, the worst aspects of modern human trafficking, and a dash of concentration camps for flavor…. On top of being abused kids outside of that particular hell.”

 

Bruce looked a bit green, both metaphorically and literally. “...I’m going to spend today incredibly angry, aren’t I?” He asked.

 

“The slave ring owners fed them half a cup boiled horsefeed per day,” Bucky deadpanned by way of answering. 

 

“Yep. Gunna be an angry day,” Bruce sighed and rubbed his face, “Are we doing something about this?”

 

“That’s why they’re here. So we  _ can  _ do something about it. In the meantime…” Bucky looked at Bruce out of the side of his eye, speculatively.

 

“In the meantime, they need food with actual nutrition in it that won’t make them sick. I can do that.”   


  
Bucky nodded, feeding the ones on hand properly was a productive start on the mess. “They do get some meat and produce, but since they have to smuggle it in  _ and _ share it out among a couple hundred people a day, not much. Better than Haiti, worse than the Dominican Republic.”

 

“Ah. Kenya?”

 

“Thereabouts.”

 

“Two plates, coming up. Jarvis, can you send any biofeed data relating to nutrition to my tablet?”

 

“Normally, I would remind you of the privacy rules you and I have both agreed to, however, under the circumstances and given my mandate to ensure the welfare of the family, I have already sent it.”

 

***

 

Yondu walked around the workshop as Darcy and Nat chivvied Tony and Rocket into putting away the tools and heading back upstairs. Damn if it wasn’t good to stand again, to move on his own two feet without shaking and getting winded. The pants couldn’t do anything about the spotty, tingling sensation replacing functionality in his lower half, but just being able to walk felt like he had new legs, new life. He couldn’t wait to show Peter. Grinning, he headed for the elevator and didn’t wait for the others. They would be up when they came up,  _ he _ had a party to enjoy.

 

***

 

Nebula watched curiously as the diffident, rumpled man, who still smelled of danger moved about the kitchen, consulting his tablet regularly as he filled two plates.

 

“What are you doing?” She finally asked.

 

“Little’s...well, I guess they count as brothers, need food. Because they’ve been kept on a starvation diet, most of the food that’s out on the buffet will make them sick right now. So I’m making them plates that won’t.” Bruce explained absentmindedly.

 

“What have they been eating that other nutrition will make them sick?” Nebula asked, confused.

 

“Less, I understand,” Bucky said from the door, “Than what you and Gamora ate under Thanos.”   


  
“Less than three bowls of grain-slop??” 

 

“Gamora was horrified.”

 

Nebula stared at her little cakes where they cooled. If Gamora was horrified by the meals those children had been eating, it must have been little food indeed. And here she was, eating cake. If she wasn’t careful, she’d make herself sick on them.

 

“Would dessert make them sick?” she asked, cautiously.   
  
Clint beamed. Bucky smiled. Bruce’s face softened, “It depends on how much they eat. They need nutrients first, but if they’re still hungry afterwards, a  _ small  _ slice of cake should be alright.”

 

Nebula nodded, “Then they may have some of my cake. Just so I don’t make myself sick on it.”

 

No one believed her.

 

***

 

Peggy rejoined the Assassin’s Club, smiling.

 

“Well?” Victoria asked.   
  
“Situation resolved.” Peggy returned, “Tony had  _ ideas _ . The boy is smarter than Howard gave him credit for,” she motioned over to where Yondu was  _ strutting _ in his new “walky pants.” 

 

“Excellent. Marvin got distracted from Jarvis by the new assassin girls. I think he’s decided to adopt them. The blue one is about as paranoid as he is. It’s adorable.”

 

Bucky suddenly appeared and sat next to Peggy. “I see Tony gave Yondu his legs back. What else have I missed?”

 

Frank grinned, “Nat & Clint, and Marvin are all adopting the assassins you brought home with you. Nebula tackled Clint for cake. And Ivan still thinks Russians make better guns.”   
  
“Well, they do,” Bucky grinned, “They also make better alcohol. Argue cars and you might win, though.”

 

Ivan laughed victoriously.

 

Bucky sobered, “In more serious matters, Those of us  _ not _ retired are going to need to have a meeting here in a bit. Just waiting for Bruce to feed Little’s brothers something that won’t react poorly with the starvation diet they’ve been on. Who’s up to mind the smallest monsters?”

 

Marvin perked up, “Can we..?”   
  
“ _ No _ , Marvin. They are still not allowed explosives, and you don’t count as supervision when it comes to bombs. You cackle.”

 

Marvin’s face fell.

 

“I’m sure Nebula would love to learn about Terran explosives from you later,”  Sarah soothed.

 

***

 

Peggy, Frigga, and Xavier had chosen to sit out the game, preferring to have a conversation on training methods and their applications. This meant that Victoria was officially the Responsible One. She hated being the Responsible One, it was so very dull.  Which is why when the delightful girls of Strike Team Theta suggested a field trip to the local SHIELD office to hunt baby Agents, Victoria gleefully agreed. It helped that Nick’s response was that the Agents at the various branches had not had proper testing in a while like the HQ agents got regularly.

 

She was delighted to find that Jarvis had the building’s schematics on file in the War Room, and had consented to provide them for the excursion, She probably shouldn’t have let Marvin, Frank, Haley and Little take the lead on planning their raid, but they were Just So  _ Happy… _

 

Armed with Clint’s modified paint guns, she wormed her way through the airvents after Colin, WeiWei behind her. Their team was to take and hold the office’s head. Frank, Mina, and Caddell were to steal a computer from the local SciDiv, Marvin, Haley, and Little were to “tag” as many field agents as possible, and Ivan, Joanne, and Gun were to disable the alarm systems and then plant paint bombs on the support structures of the building without getting caught. Sarah was running their coms with Jarvis, and Nick was grading the agents’ responses.

 

They were more than half way through the building to the facility head’s office and the alarms had yet to go off. Victoria rolled her eyes. The love of her life was good, but SHIELD offices should be better than this.

 

Suddenly Colin turned off of their course down a side tunnel. 

 

“Colin?”

 

“Keep going. I have an idea. I’ll meet you there.” She could practically hear the grin in his whisper.

 

“WeiWei will follow you to be your backup. Be safe.”

 

***

 

By the time Nick sauntered into the SHIELD office, a much-cowed facility head sat in his office with a tiny towel barely around his waist, his underwear on the flagpole outside and every other article of clothing artfully arranged in the car lot. Of the field agents, only two had evaded getting marked, barely catching on to the paint splatters in time to not shoot live fire at the attacking party, and fully half of SciDiv’s computers had been taken. Jarvis announced over SHIELD’s PA system that the building would have suffered 84.6% structural integrity loss and 50% loss of life if the bombs planted had been live.

 

Nick was positively gleeful about getting to harangue an entire building of personnel about how a bunch of kindergarteners and retirees took out the entire building. Particularly as he could still be completely terrifying wearing Puck’s French Wig Of Doom. The WSC was less amused. Especially since he was _still_ wearing Puck’s French Wig Of Doom.

 

(Ciara and Nat demanded to watch the feeds. Gamora and Nebula found it enlightening, and demanded a chance to play, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Better than Haiti, worse than the Dominican Republic.”_  
>  “Ah. Kenya?”  
> https://data.unicef.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/130565-1.pdf
> 
> pages 120-124.
> 
> Ignoring ranking (mostly) to get an overall look at the percentages in question and how they compared, and looking only at stunting, wasting, and anemia, not at the overweight charts:
> 
> DR has 7.1% stunted growth under 5yo, 2.4% wasting under 5, and 26% anemia in women of reproductive age. 
> 
> Haiti's numbers are 21.9%, no wasting data, and 37.1%
> 
> Kenya is at 26%, 4%, and 25%
> 
> (if we drop the wasting data so that we have equal quantities of data: DR averages out at 16.55, Haiti at 29.5, and Kenya at 25.5)
> 
> So overall, on the lack of food malnutrition, Haiti is the worst of the three (despite their rankings, for some reason) which backs up the stories missionaries I know have brought back where dirt was being mixed into cornmeal to make it last longer and still fill up the stomach. Kenya is almost as bad, but not quite.
> 
>  _“Then they may have some of my cake."_  
>  Okay, I know it sounds a bit... Marie Antoinette. It REALLY isn't. The cake is **hers**. it's the only food that is. And she wants to share it. Despite seeing very.... French-Queen-levels snobbish, in concept, it's more that it's the only thing she has to offer. And she does. Immediately. The instant she knows that it won't hurt them.


	14. The Meeting pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn't speak English, Pepper is a badass, Odin is weird, Barra is Freaking Out ...quietly. And Jean Is PISSED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovefest:  
> critterlady, Shadows_of_Shemai, oiseaudemort, Snowdove30, quadrad, Tsita, willowfire, psyche29, Joey99, hhhellcat  
> and  
> Gbadvocate09, Bugi2, and 1 guest who gave kudos

Jean had no idea what to expect when the two new arrivals approached her as everyone else gathered for the meeting. It definitely was  _ not  _ this.

 

“We have training in working with telepaths,” the short one said.

 

“Including organizing our memories into chronological order and ...twisting so they’re ‘visible’ from a third-person perspective, without all the… extraneous thoughts and emotions getting in the way,” the taller nodded.

 

“And you want to, what? Short-cut the hard part of the briefing?” Jean asked, thinking hard. Not even the X-men were that...inclusive in their uses of the psychic based mutants. It seemed efficient, but likely to be messy, not knowing what training these boys spoke of.    
  
Unsure how this would work, Jean nodded cautiously, “Show me, first, so I can see what I need to do, then we’ll give them the option.”

 

The boys nodded, opened their minds and extended mental “hands” towards her. She grabbed on and let them pull her in, shoving their memories at her in the right order.

 

Then, she  _ knew _ . And raged. A corner of her mind filed away the various techniques and methods the Jachkt used for power, physical, and ethical training for later examination, but right now…. Right now, she needed to rage.

 

***

 

Tony was pretty sure that this conference room had never been this crowded. All of the Avengers, all of the Guardians, Phil, Ciara, Gambit, Odin, and Wolverine (who was making old-timey in-jokes with the Icicle twins) were crowded in, a third of them standing. And yet, no one was moving to start the supposedly urgent meeting. He fidgeted; he had better things he could be doing than sit around in a circle making awkward faces at each other, dammit.

 

Finally he sighed, “Is anybody going to start this….whatever this is?”

 

Darcy shook her head, “We’re not all here yet.”   
  
Tony gaped at her a moment, and looked around the conference room.  It was designed to seat 24 people comfortably and was very nearly full for the first time since it was built. “Half the planet’s in here! Who are we waiting on? Jesus?”

 

“Those are all exaggerations and metaphors, Jesus is a person revered in one of the main religions here, lived about two thousand years ago,” Peter explained to Drax and Linh-Anh.

 

Tony looked at him funny.   
  
“Drax’s culture doesn’t have metaphors or similes, so it helps him to have them explained,” Peter elucidated, “and Linh-Anh’s upbringing was lacking in any sort of cultural or societal norms, so she’s still learning, too.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Pepper smiled, “What Tony means by that is that he speaks almost entirely metaphor, many of which hinge on minute, often obscure, details of our culture and are hard to explain, but he  _ will try  _ to remember you won’t understand all of that and  _ tone it down some. _ ”

 

Tony nodded like a bobble head, “Yes. That.”

 

***

 

Barra MacBain was an uncomplicated sort. He knew most thought otherwise but it was true. The only things that really mattered were Pack and Clan, anything else was unimportant. He began dealing in arms not for the money or adventure, but to keep the Clan safe. There were few occupations where the naturally “enhanced” wouldn’t draw attention from the less ethical portions of the government, almost all of them illegal. The only other alternative would be to deny and hide their heritage and do something ridiculous and unfulfilling like being an accountant. He wanted better for his people than that, and went into arms instead. Dangerous and illegal it may be, but it let them lead full and fulfilling lives without avoiding what they were, and with somewhat less in the way of casualties than outright mercenaries.

 

Then came Ciara. Urquharts didn’t generally go in for the illegal side of things, being far more able to get legal work safely, so when one turns up to play translator for arms deals, it’d be foolish to turn them down. He’d thought, at first, that she’d need rather more protection than the rest of his business, but she quickly proved him wrong. Lord, did she prove him wrong. Within a week, she’d waded into the midst of three gunfights, turned six cars belonging to threats into bombs on wheels, and generally stolen his heart. He was gone, head over heels for a pretty girl with a gun and a razor sharp tongue. He pretended folk metal was his favorite just to watch her struggle to pretend she enjoyed it, and covered everything in his family plaid, because seeing her in his colours did something in his chest. 

 

Four months into her employment with them, he discovered that she was someone’s agent, and his heart broke. Roy helped him hide his tears from the men, and together, they watched her, hoping to catch her making contact. It didn’t help his heart at all, for the more they watched, the deeper in love he fell. She treated his people with respect, was kind to the littles and the broken, was sharp witted with bright humor, and never lied about herself, only about who she worked for. Roy took pity on him, as brothers do. It was Roy who reminded him that if they could get Ciara inside, they could also get an assassin inside. Setting aside her allegiance, Barra found that somehow, somewhen, he’d already taken her as his Mate. MacBains may have several bedpartners, but a Mate was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Roy sighed and helped him plan his own arrest. Better arrested by his mate than both dead by an assassin.   
  
Watching his sons -- and wasn’t that a kick in the kilt?  _ HE _ had children! --  play with their cousins, surrounded by the deadliest people on the planet, Barra worried. While he was in prison, Roy had sent him the surveillance photos he had found of them while working for AIM, and his employer’s plot to capture and study the twins. HYDRA had stolen him from prison to study him to better capture, contain, and control the boys. He had barely escaped to the promised safety of his mate’s family when they returned from their equally hazardous adventures in Space. They were SIX and already had half of the worst of the world gunning for them. He’d just met them, though they hadn’t been told of their relation, and any day he could lose them.

 

And Ciara, somewhat more brittle now, but no less beautiful, kind, or sharp… he shuddered to think of how many times she could have been lost. Honestly.  _ Snowboarding off of exploding buildings. _ And no one seemed to think this was at all unusual! How many times had his sons come close to being orphans? He wondered how he could stick a team on each of them to ensure their safety without Ciara gutting him for it.

 

He watched the Aesir Royals playing with the children and brightened. When in doubt of success, get Mum to do it.

 

***

 

Jean stormed into the conference room, trailing the emissaries behind her. 

 

“Jean?” Logan said with concern, half-standing from his seat next to Bucky and Steve. 

 

Jean waved him back down, “I’m fine. I just want to kill something. That’s likely going to be a common feeling in a minute or ten, depending.”

 

“Depending on what?” Coulson asked cautiously.

 

“On how you want the background information briefing that is the  _ beginning _ of this meeting delivered,” Jean huffed.  

 

“What are our options?” Thor rumbled.

 

“The efficiency of telepathic delivery, or the relative comfort of at least an hour of talking and files before we even get to why we’re here,” Jacob answered blithely, adding, “I’m a fan of the efficient route myself, but I’ve had ample time to process, and have no issues with telepaths.”

 

Bucky eyed the boys -- men,  _ leaders _ \-- cautiously, some recognition niggling the back of his mind, as they moved to settle into the space behind and on either side of Jean. He deliberately went sniper-still rather than flinch as the recognition clicked into place. The taller of the emissaries was in a video he just watched. After that video… he shrugged, “I’m fine with either option, so long as we can skip any and all further mention of Albuquerque. Completely.” 

 

Jason nodded, he’d thought the man had looked a bit green… “Oh. You watched the video. Who else did?”

 

Darcy, Gamora, and Yondu raised their hands, along with Ciara and Remy, all looking mildly ill at the thought.

 

“Yondu and I opted for our own sanity to watch an edited version with less… less  _ Albuquerque  _ involved,” Darcy said. “It was still bad.”  She looked at the room. “I know Jean and the Professor can sort of filter things, take the immediate horror off it, and I’ve always been a pull the bandaid quick girl.  Any objections?”

 

There were none.

 

Jean nodded firmly and let the information flow.

 

***

 

Linh-Anh braced herself as the first wave of knowing came.  It was terrible, but more terrible was the pain and rage felt by the others in the room.  Their emotions on the matter were choking, overpowering, flooding past the distance that normally provided a barrier for her, and she flailed like one drowning.  Her hand landed on Peter’s arm, and he shook himself free of the sticking bog of anguish to help her remain upright.

 

“You okay there, Linh-Anh?” he asked, his eyes holding a worry he wasn’t letting past his skin.  She appreciated the effort.

 

“Everyone feels so much,” she whispered.  “It is beginning to impair This One’s function.  The Rule states I must ask… please?”

 

“Of course,” Peter replied, as though it was that easy. Perhaps it was. “Guys!  Focus! I need y’all to holster the emotional guns until we actually have targets, or Linh-Anh and I will go back to the Milano.  I’m not letting you beat her power up.”

 

Suddenly, the emotional tide ebbed, leaving only wisps of shame.  Jean looked close to tears. “I’m sorry, Linh-Anh. Will this barrier work while we get ourselves under control?”

 

“Yes,” Linh-Anh agreed.  “I can come around and help each one, it was all of you, and so strong, that made it hard to breathe.”

 

Seeing nods, she began to circulate, easing each person she touched back into control of their feelings.  Although many of the gathered fighters felt rage, some felt other things. Natasha, so strong, and outwardly not showing any emotion, melted into Linh-Anh’s touch as the empath lifted great fear from her heart.

“Put some back,” the assassin whispered.  “It keeps me sharp.”

Odin, strangely, felt admiration.  She hesitated, then plucked the emotion apart, studying it.  Of course. Enduring so much, retaining even a shred of hope, much less fighting back… the Jachkt were worthy of any hall in Asgard.

Bruce, he was all anger, rage hot and stinging at her flesh like fire, or an unshielded power core.  His partner-self, though… was more complex. Where Bruce had few emotions, mostly the basic ones like anger and fear, Hulk had a full spectrum of emotions, and he was struggling to deal with the tangle this made out of most of them.  Linh-Anh helped him find a suitable metaphor, a string-and-bead puzzle, and let him handle Bruce. It seemed he was used to that. 

 

Both the gruff, hairy Logan, so in touch with his animal side, and smooth, polished Coulson, perfectly civilized, held a deep well of sadness and frustration.  They’d seen the worst before, and yet managed to remain disappointed when it happened again.

 

Tony, standing beside Rocket, carried shame and guilt.  He felt as though he should catch everything, fix everything.  Build a world where such things do not happen to anyone, much less children.  Prying that away would end up hurting them both, so instead, she soothed it, and strengthened his hopeful nature.

 

One by one, she helped the heroes around her to find a stable place in their hearts to stand on, to keep them out of the deadly swamp of emotions.  Once they were free of it, she nodded to Jean, who lowered the countermeasures, and then turned to Darcy.

 

“So.  What do we do with this?”

 

It was Pepper who answered, “We figure out which problems we can solve and knock ‘em down, one at a time. C’vandeshk, am I correct in saying that one of the problems hindering the Jachkt on this is a lack of safehouses and after care set up?”   
  


“Yes… “Jason responded cautiously, unsure where she was going with this.   
  
“Darcy, get me an assistant you trust to help me handle the NGO. Gnovlian, I’ll need all the files and financials on it. You’ll have the safehouses you need, and anything else I can wrangle you.”

 

Darcy nodded, “Take Briallen Davis, she’s too good at admin for the ordinary cat-herder corps. Jarvis, build a briefing packet for me to send to select contacts, please?”

 

“Check your inbox, Lieutenant.”

 

“ _ Tony. _ What are you doing? Sharpie does not go on matte-painted walls, because sharpie does not come  _ off _ of matte-painted walls without stripping the paint off.”

 

“I’m a master blacksmith and have doctorates in physics and engineering,” Tony replied, “I don’t think  _ I _ could make that commander’s arm with nothing but  soda cans, a broken laptop, a dozen outdated phones, and tools that were ancient by the Industrial Revolution. ...Okay, I probably  _ could _ , I made the Mach 1 in a cave with nearly as outdated tech, and repurposed weapons, but I also had a welding torch and GOOD repurposed weapons to use, and it was complete junk that I wouldn’t use for anything delicate. This thing is still impressive as fuck. I need the specs. Can I get the specs?”

 

He turned from his wall of math to find G’novlian grinning widely, holding out two USB flash drives.

“Your reaction to her arm was expected,” the taller boy explained. “This drive contains everything the Vagdhjachkt hacked from HYDRA on their Project Deathlok, including the specs of your friend’s arm. They were used to retro-engineer something that  _ could _ be made from soda cans and broken laptops and cellphones with Elizabethan era tools.” He gestured  towards Bucky with the first drive as he spoke, then raised the other, “ _ THIS  _ drive contains both the current specs of the Kolg’djachkt’s arm, theoretical specifications for possible new arms, varying by what materials could be obtained, and a copy of the code that runs it and translates between impulses from the nerves and the machinery and vice versa.”

  
Tony snatched the drives, “Bucky, let’s go make some arms. New arms all around. Jarvis, get the simulators running, I want to know which options they’ve prepared are best before we get building.” He disappeared out the door, dragging Bucky behind him, still spouting equations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Four months into her employment with them, he discovered that she was someone’s agent..._   
>  Ward was following her around... and she DIDN'T shoot him. Which is unusual enough for the firebrand that is Ciara that it blew her cover.
> 
> _sharpie does not come off of matte-painted walls without stripping the paint off_  
>  **pencil** doesn't come off of matte painted walls, sharpie DOES come off of glossy paint walls, with baby wipes, provided you catch it within about 15 minutes.
> 
> I know both these facts from experience. Ask me how!
> 
> _New arms all around._  
>  Tony is Arm-Oprah. "You get an arm, and YOU get an arm... Everybody gets an arm!" Well, limb-Oprah. Yondu's pants totally count as Tony giving out legs, too. And yes, Nebula will be getting her cybernetics fixed and replaced, too.


	15. Meeting (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning, coping, exchanging information, and a bit of r&r afterwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-graphic trigger warnings! We're still dealing with information about the rings, the Jachkt, and History of HYDRA. But nothing happens on screen.
> 
> Seriously, comment please, guys. There isn't an author on the net who isn't fed by comments, but here, in this verse? YOU help build it, with your comments. 100%facts. We have a 20 page doc of notes and headcannons and future stories built (at least half) out of AO3 comments. And I haven't even gone mining in most of the stories yet. 
> 
> LoveFest:  
> Snowecat, Tsita, psyche29, willowfire, Shadows_of_Shemai, Joey99, Selene_Aduial, hhhellcat
> 
> Rainrayvn, BrunetteWrites, psyche29, and 4 guest kudoers

_ Dear Victor, _ _  
_ _ Thank you for the gift baskets. We have not gotten to utilize them just yet, but I am certain they will be much enjoyed in the coming days. Especially as the days will be particularly stress-filled. I am attaching a briefing packet to this email and inviting you to participate in our current endeavors, I trust your discretion with these materials.  _

_ Still on for brunch Wednesday? _

 

_ Darcy _

  
  


_ Dearest Darcy, _

 

_ I am appalled to learn of this travesty. Please advise your contacts that Latveria will welcome whatever  Jachkt refugees seek amnesty with Us, full citizenship offered, including healthcare and jobs. I trust you will send me the locations of any of these… businesses within my borders? I feel the need to eradicate them. Personally. With prejudice.  _

_ Indeed. Bring Zim and GIR.  _

 

_ Victor _

 

***

 

Darcy looked up from her tablet at the still-quiet room and turned to the Jachkt emissaries. “I assume you’re here for help. I hate to break it to you, but there isn’t much we can do about, what? Ten thousand rings?”

 

“10,734, to be exact,” Jacob clarified, plugging another flash drive into the holotable, “But no, while we do need your help, we have the vast majority of those handled. There’s only two missions we really  _ need _ heavy hitters of your caliber on.”

 

Jason picked up the thread, “Word from On High is that we have three weeks before we  _ must _ go to war.  Several of the rings have agreed to open up another league, this one for children aged 5 to 12. It is projected to take a week for them to acquire the requisite numbers of children, plus two weeks standard holding time before opening. The Vagdhjachkt has arranged for their immediate evacuation, but that will tip our hand, causing the owners to crack down. On top of that, other rings are building new ‘features’ to bring in more consumers and higher profits. The Southeast DC ring among them.”

 

The holoprojector in the middle of the table brought up a map of a tunnel system.

 

“The Southeast DC ring is owned and operated by HYDRA, which is why we need you there. The new ‘feature’ they’re building is very hush-hush, but half of our hackers specialize in financials, and they found several orders through the ring’s top associates, namely, one Ian Quinn, and the connected HYDRA base,” Jacob pointed to a tunnel on one side that appeared to be a random extension that ended nowhere, “the orders total enough lye to fill two olympic swimming pools without diluting it any, which just so happens to be the same as the area covered by the arena, minus about 3 feet on each of the short sides, and that floor was raised six feet two months ago. The ‘exciting new feature’ is slated for reveal two days before the children’s league is set to open.”

 

“The Vaghdjachkt has passed word that if she has to put even one of our people down to spare them the agonizing death caused by a full body dunking in lye, no quarter will be given, period,” Jason added.

 

“Again, not the part we need you for. We can handle the ring-side. The problem is the HYDRA side.”

 

Jason nodded, “As far as HYDRA is concerned, the rings provide a pool of test subjects that fund themselves. From records we’ve hacked off of their connected servers, of the 456 Jachkt that went through this tunnel to HYDRA’s labs, some two dozen are still alive. We want them back.”

 

“If you were to make a move on their topside while the General is being  _ very _ distracting by slaughtering the ring, and we send a team through the tunnel, the likelihood of recovering the captives before HYDRA can kill them skyrockets.”

 

Steve nodded. “We’ll do it, but we need every bit of information you can get us. What’s the other mission?”

 

“South Dakota sucks balls.”

 

“Does South Dakota even have a city big enough to rate a ring?” Logan disdained. “All the cities on this list have at least a hundred thousand people livin’ there.”

 

Jacob nodded affably, “There’s one city in SD that big. Sioux Falls. But that’s not the city that has it. It’s Rapid City that has the ring. Which ring is populated pretty much exclusively by Native Americans, mostly Sioux and a bit of Cherokee and Blackfoot, and people of mixed heritage. It pulls custom from all the tourists that pass through on their way to Black Hills, as well as every Anti-Native American racist fuckwad in four states. And considering it’s in the most racist city in a state with a long and colorful history of Anti-Native American fuckwads, despite the fact that no one tracks Anti-Native American racism like they do Anti-African American and Anti-Semitism…..” He shrugged, and repeated his brother, “South Dakota sucks balls.”

 

“I feel this sudden urge to call Tony’s mom,” Darcy said with a feral grin.  “I think Lena and Artie need to get out more. Maybe they’ll want to help.”

 

“If the South Dakota ring uses any computer ever, at all,” Steve said, just as evilly, “Claudia is going to have a BLAST.”

 

“The Jachkt there are…. Particularly abused,” Jason said worriedly, “and their half-cup of horsefeed a day is actually hay, where pretty much everyone else in the world gets horse-oats. They will need substantial aid both in dismantling the ring and in getting to safety, not unlike Holocaust camp survivors.”

 

Darcy nodded grimly, “We have some experience there, I think the Avengers at least will need to be on the HYDRA base, but we can send a team to South Dakota and plan it accordingly. JARVIS, could you amend the briefing packet to reflect the specifics of the Rapid City Ring and forward it to Maria for me, please?”

 

“Editing packet now.”

 

“Thank you, Jarvis. Now,” Darcy leaned forward, “what’s the plan for this war?”

 

***

 

Gamora listened to the plans unfolding and marveled at the resilience of the Avengers. She certainly did not feel up to planning a full scale war just at the moment. Taking advantage of everyone’s focus being on the other end of the ridiculously long table, she slipped from the room, hoping to find some bread to settle her stomach and a quiet place to put herself back together.

 

“Do you prefer spice or sweet?” came a voice behind her. 

 

Startled, and kicking herself for her inattention, Gamora turned to find the metal armed man, Bucky, looking at her with concern.

 

“What?” 

 

“Which type of flavor do you prefer? Spice or sweet? There are teas that can help settle your stomach. If you prefer sweet, peppermint tea works well. If you prefer spice, ginger root tea is the way to go. We have both. So. Which do you prefer?”

 

“Oh,” Gamora blinked, “Ginger, please.”

 

Bucky brushed past her and pulled her gently into the kitchen behind him. He busied himself about the kitchen, heating water and pulling down mugs, and pointedly ignoring her while she figured herself out.

 

Bucky, for his part, kept his attention on her subtly, watching as she settled herself at the vintage diner booth Tony had installed where there used to be a walk-in freezer until Steve took a wrong turn at o-asscrack-thirty and they had to pry him off the ceiling like a very patriotic spider and gently set him outside in the sun.  Gamora was far too still for far too long, but making two cups of tea and warming up some Cinnamon Death Biscuits bought her the time she needed, and she hardly jumped at all when he set down her mug and a plate in front of her.

 

“The ginger helps settle the stomach, the cinnamon is an antioxidant, anti-inflammatory and overall good for you thing.”  He took a bite. “And they’re delicious.”

 

“How do you do it?” Gamora asked, shakily.

 

“The fighting or the not-going-insane?”

 

“The second one. How do you just… keep going after...that?”

 

“Spite, mostly.  It’s hard to explain, but… I know what Hydra wanted from me.  Why they did the horrible things they did, to my family, to thousands of families.  Sitwell was raised in it, did you know that? A child, raised into  _ that _ . Hating every goddamn second of it, running at his first chance.  For what? So a few powerful fucks could get more powerful and laugh at the rest of us choking to death on their shit.  I decided long ago… not while I draw breath. Once I’m dead, whatever happens happens, I know the odds of dying in the fight are huge, but I’m going to go out swinging, because fuck ‘em all.”

 

“Fuck ‘em all?”

 

“Fuck ‘em all,” Bucky said firmly.  “Fuck Hydra and AIM and the Rings. For that matter, _Fuck Thanos._ They don’t get to determine the value of a life.  Not while I’m here and pissed off and able to pull a trigger. Nobody gets to say some lives are worth more than others. Nobody gets to take people apart like dolls and put them back in new configurations. Nobody gets to play games with children’s lives.  Because I’m the dark thing in the closet of the monsters, and they don’t get to sleep if the innocents of this world don’t.”

 

Gamora nodded and looked thoughtful. “...What is HYDRA?”

 

Bucky paused.  He’d not considered that something that loomed so large in his own life wouldn’t be galactic news.  “Evil. They worked with Nazis in World War Two, and Nazis are Earth’s gold standard for evil. Nazis were take over the world, mass genocide of everything  _ different  _ evil. HYDRA is another step beyond that, a secret organization within the Nazis -- power, control, genocide,  _ and _ playing god, experimenting with shit no one should touch. They’ve been around, pulling strings, for a long time, all working towards gaining control, power, at the cost of human suffering.  They captured me, back in the war, gave me an enhancement serum that tended to kill people, and when I survived and was later captured by other enemies, tortured, mind-wiped,  _ controlled _ , they bartered me away from Red Room, from my children, so they could have a killer on a leash.”

 

“So, when Peter said he knew people like Nebula and me…”

 

“He meant me. Me and my daughters.”

 

Gamora sipped at her tea and thought for a moment, he let her; that was a lot to unpack on top of the rest of the day’s news. Finally she looked up at him and smiled slightly, “Spite, huh? I can do that.”

 

***

 

Darcy was getting a headache, they needed more political and social pull to pull this off, without there being rioting in the streets. She sighed, not expecting a good answer she asked, “Is there any way to know who to trust with this? Or at least who NOT to trust?”

 

“Actually, yes… sort of,” C’vandeshk replied immediately, “Our books are magicked so that whatever is written in one is written in all of them, we keep records of who utilizes the rings and what they do to whom while there, including full names, addresses and places of work, if they have those things in their wallets. The problem is that the Records aren’t digitized, and the first almost two years don’t have records at all, it wasn’t until after the first World Championship that we had enough connection between rings to organize getting the Records.”

 

“Do I want to know how many pages those records are?” 

 

“We’re on volume 187, I believe.”

 

“How big are the books?”

 

“You know in Harry Potter when Hermione pulls out the book and calls it ‘a bit of light reading’? That, with thinner pages.”

 

Darcy cringed.   
  
***   
  


Everyone left the meeting drained and emotionally exhausted. By common consent, they all piled into the media room to watch some brightly colored nonsense. The children and the adults who hadn’t been in the meeting seemed to sense the mood and scampered off to various places, some to make drinks and snacks, some to gather blankets and pillows, some to just get out of the way. The children, building an elaborate blanket fort, nudged the exhausted adults into the most comfortable places within it, and promptly snuggled into the sides of their favorite ones. Frigga and Xavier quietly made the rounds, tucking everyone in securely, bringing comfort foods, and soothing the raw edges of their minds. 

 

By the end of Lilo & Stitch, everyone was again relaxed enough to chortle along with the movie, and the children began jabbering over the credits about their adventure of the day, prompting Fury to play the video feeds and explain the game to those who hadn’t seen the game before. Soon, eyes gleaming with new ideas, they all headed off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Gir: Natasha and Warren Peace. I don't recall if we ever actually /wrote that/ but Nat and Doom have this THING they do where they troll people by trading Invader Zim quotes as a part of normal conversation and not let on what they're doing. Doom is Warren's cousin. Technically his father's cousin. First time Warren had to accompany Darcy to BrunchWithDoom, he kinda-sorta lit a portait of his father, Barron Battle, on fire. Doom was much offended, at first, until Warren explained that he has _issues_ surrounding his father. At which point Doom offered up other portraits of his cousin for cathartic arson. They're friends now. Because arson.
> 
> South Dakota Sucks Balls:  
> Can someone else try and check for me? Even SPLC doesn't have any means of tracking Anti-Native American racism, Anti-Semitism, Anti-AfricanAmerican, Anti-Latinx, Anti-LGBTQ, yes. Anti-Native? Nope. I can't find ANY statistics or hard data, just the more fluid "data" of depictions of what life on and off South Dakota reservations has been like for the last fifty years and why.... and that data line dries up ten years ago. There's not even data about it improving that I can find....
> 
> Someone else do the GoogleFu, Please?
> 
> North Dakota made the news this week with changing Voting law in a way that thoroughly excludes Native Americans from voting, but they are definitely not the first, and the methods aren't new.
> 
> (re: most racist city: Literally every news article I've found about racism in South Dakota featured events in Rapid City. Every. Last. One. Like, Guys, your one claim to fame is how much of a dick you can be to fucking everyone, maybe you should go home and rethink your lives?)


	16. Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jane take Nebula and Linh-Ahn to the mall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crackfic generator has been broken for a while and finding fresh inspiration to get it running again has taken time, which is a big part of why posting has been so slow. Have a Fluff chapter. Next chapter should have some crack in it if I can get the generator running again.
> 
> LoveFest:
> 
> willowfire, Snowecat, Shadows_of-Shemai, ClockWeasel, Joey99, Snowdove30, Tsita, hhhellcat
> 
> pikachucat, TheQueeninMourningHasASecret, and 2 guest kudoers.

Betty was the one who brought up shopping.  Jane, frankly, was unsure what day her flannel shirt was on, but pretty sure it was after two days but before five, and therefore not the person who noticed clothes.  Betty, however, was the sort of practical person who realized a new friend was wearing space-clothes, and instead of wanting to study the space-clothes, suggested a trip to buy not-space-clothes.

 

“I’m not sure if we want to take Linh-Anh to anyplace in the city, though,” Betty concluded her suggestion.  “New York may be full of weirdness, but they were also ground zero for an alien invasion. It makes them… twitchy.”

 

“Why don’t you go to the mall near the school,” Jean suggested.  “Jubilee can be your native guide to the wonders of the Salem Shopping Center, she’s a self-professed mall rat.  And I know they’ve seen stranger, that’s where all our kids go for shopping, and their control is… well, they’re the most controlled group of teens in existence?”

 

“What is this mall, and will you be taking any guards?” Nebula asked.  She looked at the confused faces around her in frustration, and sighed.  “I will go. Otherwise Linh-Anh will no doubt end up in perfectly avoidable danger, and none of you look like you could fight a Xarnar fly.”

 

Nobody argued, since Nebula also was wearing clothes that didn’t fit Earth’s rather wide set of standards.  Well, outside of a few, very specific types of clubs.

 

“Make sure Nebula gets to Hot Topic,” Tony joked.

 

“What’s ‘Hot Topic’?” Nebula asked, concerned.

 

“A clothing store. You’ll see,” Betty assured her.

 

A quick call to the school to make sure Jubilee was available and they loaded up the smaller quinjet and headed to the school. They’d drive to the mall in one of the school’s vehicles. For some reason, the Trapezoid of Terror insisted on coming along.

 

***

 

Jason and Jacob had returned to the local ring before sunset so that they would not be missed when the slaves were called for work, now they were back, in Pepper’s office this time, having brought all the information on the NGO that funded Jachkt activities, as well as the requisite documents for Pepper and her assistant to take over operations of it, all duly signed and notarized. 

 

“Ms. Davis, take these and put your twisty little mind to work on them, please, I want every angle you can leverage to maximise cost efficiency while increasing quality,” Pepper said before turning back to the boys. “I’ve arranged for substantial donations from the Maria Stark Foundation and from my own and Tony’s personal funds. I’d like access to identifying information about each living Jachkt so that I can have Jarvis print out Identification for them to have immediately upon their freedom from the rings, I intend to have a policy in place, but not activated until such time, wherein Stark Industries will hire any Jachkt who qualifies for a job before hiring anyone else, to do that, though, they need some form of validated ID….”

 

Jacob was grinning, “We can arrange for that. Do you have a means of quickly digitizing hardcopy records? If so, we can bring both the records and the list of  _ vehk _ for Ms. Darcy, we have been instructed that your servers are as secure as any can be.”

 

“Jarvis?”

 

“If someone is available to turn pages, the Holoroom can be utilized to maximum efficiency.”

 

“Tag some of Darcy’s interns for the project.”

 

“Of course, ma’am.”

 

***

 

When the Semi truck showed up with cases and cases of gargantuan books, Pepper blanched.    
“How many…?”

 

Jacob sighed, “On average, 750,000 people per year get reported as missing in the US alone, 25% of those go directly to the Rings. Plus most of the ones who don’t get reported at all. We keep records for the whole world’s rings. Nearly 11 million per year, the world over. Each and every one has a page, whether they’re still alive or not.”

 

“We remember them all, though the world forgets, it is often the only service we can grant them.” Jason added solemnly.

 

Pepper’s lips thinned, “We’ll build a memorial so that the world will also remember them. Let’s get to work.”

 

***

 

At the mall, Linh-Anh squealed with delight and dove into the nearest store, dragging a laughing Jubilee behind her. “Look at this! And This, and this and  _ This _ ! How do I pick? Nebula! Come look!”    
  


Jubilee laughed, “We start by finding things in the right size for you, this one is too big, and that one much too small. Try over here.” 

 

Nebula snorted in the background, everything was bright and frilly and completely impractical in this store, of course the girl once called Mantis loved it. She was also bright, frilly, and impractical. Not that Nebula had any desire to change that. ONE of her sisters should get to be those things, at least. Even if Nebula had to stab the universe itself to keep it that way.

 

Betty snickered. “Come on, Jane has her comm in her ear, as do I; they can call us if they need us. Let’s go find a store better suited to you.”

 

Betty grinned and led her to a store on the second floor of the large, indoor marketplace. The moving stairs were… confusing, strange, and full of potential danger, but Nebula had to admit they were useful. Betty laughed. Nebula was unsure if she was laughing at her or not, but it didn’t seem cruel, like when Thanos’ minions did it. 

 

In the store, Nebula stood baffled for a minute. This was nothing like the other stores they had passed, full of bright colors and random gadgets and other useless things as they were. The lights were kept as low as possible, while still being bright enough to allow for efficient vision. It seemed darker than it was, the black-painted walls and black floor added to the effect. The humans manning the store wore dark colors with bright hair and bits of metal attached to their faces. Nebula relaxed.

 

***

Becky saw some weird shit in her day job.  One, it was Hot Topic, like, all their customers were trying to be individual and unique in the same ways at the same time, of course there was some weird shit.  And two, she worked at the mall all the mutant kids from that one school shopped at. The mall had given six ‘sensitivity’ training courses in her first six months.  Not that Becky cared, the mutant kids were nice, respectful, and didn’t fuck up her tee shirt displays like the preps that sometimes came by to laugh.

 

Of course, she wasn’t quite sure she’d ever seen anything like New Girl.

 

New Girl was blue, which, okay, not that odd, and parts of her appeared made of metal, again, not the strangest, but her  _ face _ .  She was looking around the store like she’d never seen anything so wonderful in her life, hesitantly glancing at her friend like she was expecting it to be snatched away any moment.  She looked vulnerable, and it sat at odds with her leather-heavy outfit and the stalk of her feet as they’d approached. It almost hurt to look at, although maybe that was because New Girl was fucking hot and Becky was suddenly very aware she wasn’t straight.

 

“Hi, welcome to Hot Topic,” Becky called, stepping out from where she’d been arranging a mannequin in the window.  “Love the boots, by the way. Looking for anything specific?”

 

The brunette with New Girl smothered a snicker, “She needs a new wardrobe, what she’s wearing is about all she has. A friend joked that we should bring her here, I don’t think he realized how not-a-joke it was.”

 

“New wardrobe? ...Like, the whole thing?” Becky asked.  The brunette nodded. “Awesome! We’ve got a new shipment of pants in over there, the tee shirts are buy one get one half off, and a ton of seasonal lingerie is on sale too, 40% off.  Which, I mean, it’s halloween themed, which was weeks ago, but is Jack Skellington ever  _ not _ appropriate?  No.”

 

New Girl sort of locked up.  Her friend touched her arm. “Do you want to try things on, or would you prefer not to use the store changing room?”

“I… think I would prefer to look, for now.  And maybe try things on later. I hope Anthony isn’t going to be unhappy if I cannot decide yet.”

 

“We’ll take three of all the shirts,” the brunette said, “one small, medium, and large of each.  She can try them on at home and decide then, when she has cake on hand to help. Pants too. And a random assortment of accessories. Neb? Why don’t you wander the store, pick out things you like in a few sizes?”

 

New Girl nodded and slunk off into the racks.

 

Becky blinked, then looked at the rectangle of black plastic the woman had handed her.  Tony Stark’s Amex card. Okay. This was officially awesome.

 

***

 

In no time at all, Betty and Nebula joined Linh-Anh, Jubilee, and Jane at the MAC store, having pressed the Trapezoid of Terror into duty to help carry the bags. When they got there, they found that Linh-Ahn had had a similar shopping experience, though her few dozen bags were from multiple stores, rather than just the one, including nearly a dozen bags from Spencer’s, all of which were bursting with a neon rainbow of color.

 

Nebula stared at the store in confusion as Linh-Anh poked curiously at a brightly colored circle.   
  
“Very well, I yield,  _ what _ is this store?” Nebula asked.

 

“Is it poisonous?” Linh-Anh demanded.

 

Jubilee giggled, “No, nothing here is poisonous, it’s make-up.”

 

“Make-up?” Linh-Anh’s nose wrinkled.

 

“Like… It’s warpaint for  _ non _ violent, social battles.”

 

Nebula nodded. “I will try this warpaint. The colors are reminiscent of some of the poisonous species I have met. I approve.”

 

Jane Did Not Laugh, while a too-straight-faced Betty waved over an associate.

 

***

 

After they came back from the mall, Nebula, Linh-Ahn, and Jubilee absconded with Gamora and disappeared. And Betty and Jane were extraordinarily smug, questions were answered with silent smiles or a raised eyebrow. It was driving Tony mad.

 

“But Jaaaaaaaaaaane! What’d they geeeet?”

 

***

 

In one of the spare residential floors, with the door locked and all the cameras covered, so that even if Tony hacked JARVIS’s privacy protections, he STILL wouldn’t see anything, four young women dove merrily into and out of bags, throwing bits of clothing and shoes at each other and running into the next room to change, trying on all sorts of outfits, colors and combinations, some of which would definitely confound most Terrans.    
  
Jubilee chortled with glee when Mantis wore a yellow and pink babydoll mini sundress with black fishnets, rainbow socks, platform goth midcalf boots, and beaded lace choker and bracelets. It was… adorably confused.

 

At first, Jubilee couldn’t  make out quite what Nebula was aiming for, though she was certain her new friend was aiming for  _ something.  _ Having blue skin definitely meant Nebula could get away with wearing colors most humans couldn’t, but even taking that into account, the combinations she went with didn’t make much sense. Jubilee tilted her head and squinted at the latest one. Something about it niggled something in the back of her mind.

 

Nebula moved to glare at Gamora’s attempts to convince her to try on a dress, and Jubilee just about jumped out of her seat as she figured it out. “Oh! OH! I get it!”

 

Gamora raised an eyebrow in the direction of the youngest, “Get what?”

 

“Nebula’s colors! This outfit looks a  _ lot  _ like one of the super-poisonous tree frogs in the South American rainforest!”

 

Nebula smirked. Which, for her, was anyone else’s grin. “I know.”

 

Now Gamora’s eyebrow was aimed at Nebula, “You know? Since when do you know Terran wildlife?”

 

“Since Clint made me wear an apron based off of a poisonous insect last night and I asked Jarvis for images of other poisonous creatures native to Terra. I like them.”

 

Gamora thought a moment. “Would you wear a dress if it also screamed ‘poisonous’?”

 

Nebula sighed heavily. “FINE. I’ll wear a damned dress, but you’re not taking my boots and putting me in those hobbles masquerading as footwear, and you can take away my, what’s it called, again? Fishnet? Over my dead body.”

 

Gamora smiled, rifled through the bags, and held another bundle of fabric out to her.

“Ugh. At least it’s a decent color.”

 

***

 

Bucky and Darcy leaned against the wall just to the left of Nebula, wondering at the sudden changes in the girls brought on by something as simple as a wardrobe change, and entirely unsure how to ask. After a few exchanged Eyebrows, Bucky took up the reigns of the conversation.

 

“I’m...somewhat surprised by your choices, Nebula, you seemed to have preferred darker colors in general. Why did you choose these?”

 

“Dark colors are functional. They blend in and do not show stains. They are excellent for working in. These are not for working.”

 

“I’ll grant that,” Darcy nodded, “But there are many other non-working clothes you could have chosen. Like what Jubes and Linh-Ahn are wearing, or Pepper’s denim and lace in neutral colors yesterday. Why  _ these _ ?”

 

Nebula paused, thinking, there was no judgement in their voices, only curiosity, and they seemed willing to wait for an answer while she figured it out. “I...like them. I have not had a reason to wear less functional clothes before. I could have gone only with frilly and impractical like Linh-Ahn. But that is  _ her _ . I cannot be such. It’s right that someone gets to be, but it is not what I am.” She took a moment to consider how to phrase her thoughts -- something Peter and Drax had insisted was important -- before she continued, “When Clint gave me the apron to wear, he explained about the butterflies, whose bright colors and sharp contrast protect them by warning predators that they are dangerous. I asked Jarvis for more Terran animals like it. He told me of poison dart frogs, jellyfish, coral snakes, and all sorts of fish, and of the ones that mimic them to confuse predators. These clothes are not for working… They are for not  _ having  _ to work.”

  
Darcy smiled. She had not been present when her own daughters got to have their own choices in clothes, and many of them had  _ had  _ to wear frilly and impractical for their work as often as the dark, clinging suits for the wetworks part. Getting to see someone chose for themselves without the weight of a cover to fit… Well, it just might carry her through the next month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-identity comes from some of the strangest places. Asking WHY someone likes a thing can reveal things they weren't even aware they knew.
> 
> I'd link to the clothes they got, but HotTopic doesn't currently have any of the things, nor does anybody else, really. This is set in 2014, what was fashionable then isn't anymore, so I drew them. Would have colored with markers that would scan right, except they went missing.... 
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/ValkyriePhoenix/posts/10156622501188913


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